sunday afternoon. the mets are playing. i'm at the bar. the phone rings.
[RING RING]
me: magnetic field.
guy: yeah, uh, where are you located? [dark, raspy voice]
me: we're at 97 atlantic, brooklyn heights.
guy: ok, uh, what kind of people hang out there?
me: well, it's mostly a young adult crowd, but it depends on the night. we have live music...
guy, interrupting: no, no. do you have the, uh, right kind of people there?
me: [pause] well, i'm not sure what you mean by right, but people are friendly. it's a nice place to meet people.
guy: so no fags, no kikes, no niggers?
me: [long pause] i'm sorry, i don't think that kind of attitude would be welcome at our bar.
guy: alright, well, fuck you and your nigger loving bar. [hangs up]
me: ??????????????
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