I was looking at the black chest of the very, very big barista. He was at least six-ten. I thought at first, he was wearing a black tank top, but it proved to be a black dress shirt from which he’d torn the sleeves. His arms were as big around as my head! Seattle simply does not prepare you for this. The last black man I’d seen in Seattle was on the basketball court Friday night. Of course, I’d already registered the vastly more homogenized culture of Savannah, but this was the first time I’d had a direct interaction with a man of this stature in longer than I could remember.“Hi,” I said at last. “I’d like a double short Americano, please.”“What’s that?” Well, I do know that not every place in the world speaks Seattle coffee. No problem.“Two shots of espresso in an eight-ounce cup filled with hot water,” I explained.“No espresso, sista,” he said. “You want something uptown, like The Bean. I jus’ got coffee.”“Oh.” Did I want another cup of weak coffee? It seemed a little rude to walk. She slapped him down to the floor, then startedkicking him in the face."You snotty little motherfucker! How dare you! Don't you EVER raiseyour voice to me!" Ma stop! I sorry! I sorry!"I was paralyzed with fear. And fascination. I could not believe this wasactually happening right in front of me. Tony was nuts. But my God, Mrs.D'Amato was really laying into him. I couldn't believe how strong shewas. She kept kicking him with her heels and slapping his face. Then shewas pulling his hair and led him up to his feet.Her face was a mask of hate and resolve. She was still pulling his hair.Then she spat right in his face. I was spellbound."Go upstairs and wait for me. Get undressed." Yes Mommy."Tony hung his head in shame and trudged off. I had never heard him callher "Mommy" before."Uh..well, I better be going." No, Gene. You're going to remain here while he's being punished. Thatwill add to his humiliation."I sat there. Scared. I didn't know what to do. I had a raging hard-on underthe.
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