My Famous Black-Eyed Pea Story
I'm going to ruin things for my future get togethers, as this is my best amusing anecdote; however, it seems a shame to not use the power of the web to spread joy and understanding.
Shortly after moving to Atlanta, the Grateful Dead were coming to town. We couldn't get tickets, so Mrs Schwartz and I drove our Ford Festiva to Sherwood's Bar (Where the SouthSide Rocks!) for their Grateful Dead party, where they were holding a raffle for tickets.
After a few hours of drinking, they held the raffle. The place was PACKED! I mean, you could barely MOVE in the crowd. Wouldn't you know it, but we actually WON the tickets. Talk about a miracle. This just put us in more of a mood to celebrate (drink) . We got pretty loaded, and seperated. I tracked down Mrs Schwartz and she was at the bar, talking to a woman who could not be any more country. She had thin, blond hair, all one length, parted down the center. We had secured our spot at the bar and we weren't moving. We talked to her for quite a while. She kept referring to her husband. He's so nice. He's at our table. He's over across the bar. We finally convinced her to let us join them at their table. As we got up to go over, she stopped us, leaned in, hand cupped around her mouth, and said in a relative whisper,
I've got to warn you before you see him. He's black.
We assured her that wouldn't be a problem. We spent a good hour at the table talking to them both. They were a very nice couple. Eventually, the conversation got around to southern cooking vs northern cooking. (We had just arrived from Binghamton, NY) We decided that we were going to get together the following weekend for a BBQ, where we would bring northern food and they would cook southern food.
The bar was VERY loud. Often things are mis-heard. I'll tell it as we heard it.
Mrs Schwartz was asking about different southern food that she had never tried. Suddenly, she turned to the woman and loudly asked,
Does Black Guy's Pee taste different than regular pee?
All three of us froze, jaws hanging open for a good ten seconds, as she desperately scanned from one person to the next.
Finally, the woman sternly said, WHAT?!
Do Black Eyed Peas taste different than regular peas?
The three of us released a communal exhaustive sigh, followed by OHHHHHHH.
It wasn't until we were driving home that night, that I asked her, Do you know what we all thought you asked her?
She had no idea. She couldn't figure out why we all froze. She thought she had violated some obscure rule of the confederacy "Don't EVA ask a lady about peas!"
They never did call us about the BBQ.
Shortly after moving to Atlanta, the Grateful Dead were coming to town. We couldn't get tickets, so Mrs Schwartz and I drove our Ford Festiva to Sherwood's Bar (Where the SouthSide Rocks!) for their Grateful Dead party, where they were holding a raffle for tickets.
After a few hours of drinking, they held the raffle. The place was PACKED! I mean, you could barely MOVE in the crowd. Wouldn't you know it, but we actually WON the tickets. Talk about a miracle. This just put us in more of a mood to celebrate (drink) . We got pretty loaded, and seperated. I tracked down Mrs Schwartz and she was at the bar, talking to a woman who could not be any more country. She had thin, blond hair, all one length, parted down the center. We had secured our spot at the bar and we weren't moving. We talked to her for quite a while. She kept referring to her husband. He's so nice. He's at our table. He's over across the bar. We finally convinced her to let us join them at their table. As we got up to go over, she stopped us, leaned in, hand cupped around her mouth, and said in a relative whisper,
I've got to warn you before you see him. He's black.
We assured her that wouldn't be a problem. We spent a good hour at the table talking to them both. They were a very nice couple. Eventually, the conversation got around to southern cooking vs northern cooking. (We had just arrived from Binghamton, NY) We decided that we were going to get together the following weekend for a BBQ, where we would bring northern food and they would cook southern food.
The bar was VERY loud. Often things are mis-heard. I'll tell it as we heard it.
Mrs Schwartz was asking about different southern food that she had never tried. Suddenly, she turned to the woman and loudly asked,
Does Black Guy's Pee taste different than regular pee?
All three of us froze, jaws hanging open for a good ten seconds, as she desperately scanned from one person to the next.
Finally, the woman sternly said, WHAT?!
Do Black Eyed Peas taste different than regular peas?
The three of us released a communal exhaustive sigh, followed by OHHHHHHH.
It wasn't until we were driving home that night, that I asked her, Do you know what we all thought you asked her?
She had no idea. She couldn't figure out why we all froze. She thought she had violated some obscure rule of the confederacy "Don't EVA ask a lady about peas!"
They never did call us about the BBQ.
posted by Exador at
1:22 PM
1 Comments:
tell poor mrs schwartz, yes they do taste different...black eyed peas vs regular peas.
that was funny
By
i used to be me, at 5:51 PM
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