Breaking the Segregated Bread

This past weekend Morgan, his mom, Pat, and I went to Atlanta to celebrate Morgan's 28th birthday. I wanted to take him somewhere to have fun and get out of the backwards South (I know Atlanta is in the South, but it's a metropolis so it's much more mainstream). We all had a great time going to Six Flags and the new Georgia Aquarium (awesome). We had a fabulous dinner atop the Westin hotel on their 71st floor in their revolving Sun Dial Restaurant where we ingested exquisite food while taking in the breathtaking 360 view of the city. Each time we looked out the window there was a different view. (There was some question at one point as to whether we were moving, or the walls around us...I think we decided that we were in fact stationary, while the whole city rotated around us! Ha!)

We ran into some unpleasant situations such as the TRAFFIC that amassed out of nowhere and the fact that I went the wrong way on one of the 50 Peachtree Streets and we missed seeing the High Museum extension by Renzo Piano because by the time we got there it was closed. At least we got some good exterior photos. And, of course, there was later that night when I almost ran out of gas. For as many cars there are in Atlanta it amazes me that there only seems to be two or three gas stations! Luckily Pat leaned out the window and asked where one was. It was about two miles away and each time we stopped at a light we seemed to be next to the same person. He got tired of us asking “are we there yet?” and “how much farther?”. By the time we got there he yelled out his window at us “CHEVRON!” and pointed wildly. Thank you, sir, whoever you were.

But, the big conundrum, if you will, happened Friday night. We checked into our hotel, got lost on Peachtree, missed the museum, almost ran out of gas, and ate dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. (Full day, huh?) This last item is what I am going to speak of.

I expect (unfortunately) and know that some parts/people of the South still wish that there was segregation, and think that whites and blacks are not equal. These people are the most unintelligent, backward, and cruel people...something you don't really expect to see in a futuristic metropolis such as Atlanta, even more odd, at the Cheesecake Factory in a very unassuming fashion.

We were seated at a very nice table and our drink orders were taken. Next came the bread. It was a WHITE French loaf, very tasty. Nothing out of the ordinary. Our food orders were placed and casual conversation ensued. As we were sitting there, we started noticing a very startling trend...the color of the bread compared to the color of the patrons. We had a couple sitting next to us who were African American, and an African American couple sitting in a booth behind Morgan. On their tables sat a basket full of BROWN pumpernickel bread. In the next booth was a group of four white patrons, with loafs of WHITE French bread, and the same at the table next to us with a Caucasian family of four. One couple was finished and left and they were replaced by another African American couple, and out came the BROWN pumpernickel bread! At this point we are laughing, absolutely beside ourselves with the sheer craziness. For sure, this can not be happening. This has to be a strong coincidence! But, no! As we were leaving the restaurant Morgan and I took a trip around the floor and covertly snooped around at the tables and everyone had segregated bread! It was like it was color coded!

What is really disturbing about this was that the servers didn't ask us what kind of bread we wanted, they just plopped it down on the table. So, what are they saying? What if we wanted pumpernickel bread? Would we be rejected? Would we be breaking the rules of the corporation of the Cheesecake Factory? I say bring on the pumpernickel! Next think you know we won't be able to have chocolate cake!