Jim, it's interesting you bring up these little verbal street assaults. There may be something about some of us pale fellas that occasions taunting from men of darker hue.
I don't know what it is, but I have, in the past racked up the following incidents:
1. On an unmotivated walk, just strolling through Charlottesville, VA into an unfamiliar neighborhood, I began to hear threatening remarks issuing forth from somewhere out of my vision. I suddenly realized I was the only caucasoid on the street. "You bettah get yo a$$ outta here, BOY. You bettah RUN."
I don't mind admitting to you that I RAN.
2. Same town, different day. I was walking through the charming downtown area. Two African-American gents hung out on a corner just staring at passersby. When I passed, they issued a gratuitious racial insult. I kept walking, head down, seriously peeved. The Christian humanist in me wanted to engage these guys and find out what was at the bottom of insulting somebody they didn't know anything about. I was too mad and too afraid of where a confrontation would lead, so I kept walking with a knot in my stomach.
3. Atlanta: Running late to get to the capitol for lobbying work. I jumped out of my train and stepped onto the escalator. I may have walked up the first two or three steps. A large African-American man dressed in heavy jacket and baseball cap turned around and menaced, "Don't you ever run up on me like that, boy."
4. Atlanta: Riding MARTA to the capitol. Made the mistake of boarding a car full of African-American young people while dressed in a suit. A young woman came and stood over me and then began to RAP at me and unleashed a number of lines I could barely understand, but were clearly not complimentary. Her companions leered and giggled. I sat there thinking, "Here I am working, trying to establish a career, and I've somehow merited RIDICULE."
5. On another occasion, I walked through the underground train station in Atlanta. A young, black man dressed in the gangsta style ran up to me, dropped down to a football three point stance, and waited, I think, for me to get out of his way. By this time I'd had enough. I outweighed this guy by a hundred pounds and I wasn't moving. He jumped up, spun around me and yelled as he passed, "Boy, I would have KNOCKED you down!" I replied, "In your dreams." My cheek had been turned about 270 degrees from its original position and I was beginning to react.
Strangely enough, since that time the unwarranted cross-racial attacks aimed at me seem to have stopped. Maybe the Lord decided I'd had enough. I don't know. Maybe I walk a little taller, stand a little straighter these days. But I do know that it's a very unpleasant thing to be insulted, called out, and taunted, and verbally spat upon when you haven't done a thing in the world other than mind your own darn business.