Black Friday is Not a Racial Holiday
This post could be titled “Good Son/Bad Son”. Good Son because I drove to Houston and back twice so my Mom could spend Thanksgiving with me. Bad Son because I’m totally about to make fun of her.
“Black Friday” was originally so named because of the heavy traffic on that day, although most contemporary uses of the term refer instead to it as the beginning of the period in which retailers are in the black (i.e., turning a profit)
On that very day I was taking my Mom downtown to do touristy stuff (like see the Alamo, tour the Riverwalk, all the things I don’t do now that I live here), and one of the best places to park is the mall parking garage downtown.
I mentioned this and immediately retorted, “Ooh, wait. We can’t park there, it’s Black Friday. Going to be a madhouse at the mall.” (Luckily, nobody seems to like that mall so it was quite empty with plenty of parking.)
My mom, confused look on her face, says, “What does that mean?”
“Black Friday, ya know.” I respond, thinking she would understand the term by me simply repeating it. Why doesn’t that ever seem to work?
Pause, looking sheepish, almost whispering. “… is that when all the Black people come out?”
I laughed for a good minute before replying, “Yes Mom, that’s the one day they come out of their houses, but if they see their shadow they go back indoors for another 6 weeks.”
“Oh shut up,” was her only response. I <3 my Mom. XD
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