The House That Silence Built

February of 2003, I participated in a soon-to-be-abandoned study abroad program in London, England. Late one night, I was riding the tube home when two black people, a couple, entered the car. The man was complaining loudly about something -- I think it was to do with how someone treated him, based on the color of his skin. All of a sudden, this guy who had appeared to be sleeping said in a slurred voice, "I know how you feel, mate. I'm Australian."

The black gentleman didn't respond well to this comment, voicing his doubt that the Australian understood at all. The Australian rejoined that his people had been just as oppressed and downtrodden; he knew just how it was to be a black person. The gentleman didn't take this statement at all well. He went on to advise the Australian to no longer concern himself with the gentleman's affairs.

Regrettably, the Australian took great exception to this suggestion. Stumbling to his feet, he attempted to confront the gentleman straight on with regards to the relative plights of the black and Australian peoples. The gentlemen seemed entirely prepared to vigorously discuss the matter at length with the Australian, utilizing a rather physical form of expression.

It was only thanks to other concerned bystanders riding the Underground that an unfortunate exchange was handily avoided. One intercepted the Australian while two others and the gentleman's girlfriend dissuaded him from further pursuing the disagreement. When it was all over and the Australian had lapsed back into sullen contemplation, the woman bystander who had motivated others to intercede commended her helpers, saying, "Well done."

Quite naturally, I had been frightened in to utter silence and inaction by the whole escapade.

Query: What is one food that you refuse to try? Why?

Zucchini. When I was young, my mom would prepare sliced zucchini, boiled or steamed or whatever with some kind of tomato sauce on top. It looked utterly vile. The sauce would be watery with chunks of cooked tomato -- another texture I couldn't stand at the time -- and the zucchini slices would be all limp and faintly jaundiced.

If I've ever eaten a piece of zucchini, the experience doesn't exist within my memory.