I'm A Black Man.

Last night I was having drinks at Frank 'N Hank, a dive bar in Koreatown. It's a quaint little place, with a nude lady on the wall, a Korean lady bartender who's hard to understand, and all the other dive bar mainstays. It's Friday, and there's about eight people in the place, with me and a friend (who I'll call Alicia) being two of them. Me and Alicia are talking, minding our own business, when an African American man in his fifties sits beside us. He has a scarf covered in peace signs around his neck and a deck of Tarot cards at his side. Gerard (as I'll call him) interrupts us, in a polite manner, and after brief introductions begins to rattle off a spiel about his Oprah appearance and various celebrity clients, including Courtney Love and some guy on "The Unit," which I've never seen before. He claims he's a "reader" and even asks the Korean lady bartender to confirm the fact, which she does. Apparently they're friends, and her name is Snow. He continued his spiel, but I couldn't tell you what he said- all I could think about is the juxtaposition between Oprah and a dive bar called Frank N Hank, and if Snow and Gerard ever fly to Chicago together to visit her.

Gerard then asks Alicia her initials, and she tells him. Without hesitation he says that she's an artist who hates her 9 to 5 job, but does it to pay the bills. He pauses, then says "you need to calm down...you'll be okay." Knowing what I do about Alicia, he was right about the first assertion, although I don't think it was a big leap considering that most people in Los Angeles call themselves an artist of some kind, and an even higher percentage hate their 9 to 5 job. As I have no idea what the second assertion was about, the jury was still out on Gerard the Oprah Psychic. He goes on, telling Alicia things about her mother, which she says are true, but I have no way of knowing for sure. Alicia thinks he's for real. I maintain that he's a fraud.

Then he looks to me- IT'S MY TURN. And I'm ready to prove to Alicia- and all his horse shit celebrity clients- that he's just a smooth talker with a tragically hip scarf. He asks me my intitials, and I tell him. He says that I could never work a 9 to 5 job, like Alicia does; that I have to be my own boss. He pauses, then says "you're fine." I must admit, I was a little impressed. Over a year ago I traded my 9 to 5 job at a four star hotel for one that allowed complete freedom. It was the best decision I've ever made. I quickly realized, though, as he started talking to Snow, that I was more flattered then impressed, simply because he said I was fine, whereas he told Alicia she needed to calm down. I was happy to be perceieved as the one who had it all together. This realization makes me doubt him again. I still maintain he's a fraud.

As if he senses my challenging stare, he turns away from Snow and looks me dead in the eye. Then he hits me with the haymaker--

"You're a black man in a white man's body."

I've always felt most psychics made generalized statements that were typically true for most people. This statement (as well as the small rant afterwards about slavery) was ever so bold, considering I was in no way dressed like an aspiring rapper. Not only was it bold, but it's true (in a way). If you don't believe me, these four reasons will prove it:

1. For the past four months I've been writing a dark drama about a black slave in 1820's Virginia. The reason I chose such subject matter is because I've always been fascinated with slavery and African American culture.
2. My best friends in Virginia are black.
3. I am widely accepted by black strangers, in an odd way. I feel comfortable telling black jokes right in their midst (as if I'm black), and for some reason they never get upset, and in most cases love me for it.
4. I can dance, and have what most basketball players would call "mad hops."

After Gerard's haymaker statement, my challenge had been accepted and met. My mental accusations toward him had been proven wrong- he was truly talented. There was a reason why Courtney Love, the guy from "The Unit," and Oprah all sought his advice. In that moment he could have told me I would die in an hour and I would have believed him. Fortunately his next words had nothing to do with death at all. He simply said, with extreme confidence, "Alicia, your shoe is untied."

I looked down curiously, knowing Gerard couldn't see her shoes at all, as they were hidden under the bar. Time slowed down as I squinted through the darkness, looking for a loose lace, but I found no lace at all...

Alicia was wearing sandals.