Letter to Rachelle

It was a different incident.

And whatever you do, don’t worry about Jones. He is fine. More than fine. He is brave and compassionate and beautiful. And happy, so, so happy. He’s as happy as he is healthy, and right now he is benevolently glowing at daycare. Not a thing wrong, everything right.

He had nothing to do with the incident.

Okay.

The incident.

When Dave and I went out for lunch today there was a misunderstanding over an order and I got kicked-out of the restaurant. Banned, actually. What happened was that I accidentally ordered the Chicken Supremacist from the server.

I meant to order the Chicken Supreme, but for some reason I did not say that. It was like a Freudian slip, or something. Instead, I said, “You know what I’d like? I’d really love some good, old fashioned Chicken Supremacist like my nana used to make, can the kitchen do that for me?”

I did not mean to say that.

I was fucking mortified.

I immediately apologized, explaining that I was on Twitter too much and had probably unconsciously picked up the language used there, and that it was a verbal slip-up that was NOT EVEN REMOTELY reflective of my views. I hate all supremacists, all of them! I don’t care what they think they’re superior to, I hate them!

The server, who was white, nodded and I thought everything was okay but it was not okay. The manager came over next and I began to panic and broaden my apology, this time starting with a land acknowledgment and then ending with claims of disability. It was not a good look for me, and if you care to see it for yourself there were several people videotaping the incident on their cell phones, so I am sure they are up on YouTube by now. Anyhow, the manager clearly thought I was unstable, and I am now banned from La Grenouille, and about 12 other restaurants ( INCLUDING THE KEG, FUCK!!!) owned by the same group. They actually gave me a card listing all the places I was not welcome.

Media has begun to call.

I am so sorry.

Michael Murray

PS: Nana was not a racist either!