Last night I attended a taping of the National Public Radio program “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me!” The taping took place in Santa Barbara, California at the newly remodeled Granada Theatre. The theatre was packed and much laughter was shared by those on stage and those of us sitting in the auditorium. I’m looking forward to hearing the edited version of the show tomorrow to see which parts of the live show made the cut.
There was one aspect of the evening that I found troublesome. The trouble wasn’t anything about the show, but rather the audience. As I walked into the theatre I was struck with the homogeneity of those bearing tickets for the venue; almost every single person was Caucasian. In fact, the place was so white I found it creepy. I suspect that last night’s attendance was around 1400. I don’t know how long it has been since I was in a place surrounded by that many white people. My life is lived in a much more multi-cultural frame where difference is so normal it ceases to be different.
In a sea of white skin we left the auditorium. As I walked down the stairs I watched the money, the thinness, and set after set of blue eyes pass me on the right and the left. The ornate reconstruction of the theatre followed us out the doors and I had a strange historical displacement. I saw all of us in Germany in the 1930’s; all of us leaving the theatre to get into our black cars, to travel to square row houses, to kiss our little blond children goodnight. This flash of otherwhen struck me bone chilling cold, and even sitting here some twenty-four hours later, I still can’t quite shake it off.
