Just When I Thought My People Wouldn’t Make Me Look Like A Big Freaking Moron

On Sunday my girlfriend and I decided to make use of my Entertainment Book by going to get dinner at Klucks. (Those of you in the Kent and Bainbridge area should imagine a more vintage version of Henry Wehners. For those of you unfamiliar with it in Cleveland, you have most likely passed it a million times without realizing it because it’s located right on West 117th and Detroit.) I had been craving seafood and I have always been intrigued by this weird non-descript building, so I thought we could give it a chance. Though Maria was a little hesitant about getting seafood at a German restaurant named Klucks.

Once inside, it is hard to say what you might notice first. The unusual amount of mounted fish initially caught my eye, but the tacky nautical decorations, the big picture of Jesus above the front door and the amount of people taking advantage of the Early Bird Specials of schnitzel and fried shrimp are also hard to miss. As we walked in I guess you could say we stuck out as much as the mounted fish on the wall. I am going to go out on a limb and say this restaurant does not see a lot of interracial couples. Yet there we were as I was trying to show her how people of Eastern European descent eat their meals (in several courses with lots of bread) and she was trying not to notice she was the only black person who had probably ever eaten there.

Things actually went fairly well throughout the meal. The food was good, though smaller portions than what you might get at a similar restaurant, and our waitress was incredibly friendly. She seemed grateful to be serving people younger than 55. At one point I may have seen her mouth the words “help me” as if she was trapped in a scary movie, but that might have just been my imagination. Maria even made a joke about having my 31st birthday party at this joint. (It’s never too early to start planning a birthday party around schnitzel.) As you can see, the dinner seemed to be a success.

My people seemed to be behaving themselves. Nobody stared for longer than a minute and everyone seemed to be minding their own business. As we were finishing up, I noticed an older gentleman approaching us with a pamphlet in his hand. As I saw him skipping every other table of people and heading straight for us, I felt my heart drop. I may have even said a small prayer before he laid his playbill from the theatre down in front of us. He never took his eyes off of Maria as he said, “I don’t know if you have seen this play showing at the Cleveland Play House but I think you would really enjoy it. It is reminiscent of Rosa Parks but the woman in this play is from New York.” We were so close to leaving unscathed. He asked her to read over the program and then return it to him before we left. This was followed by the following quote: “I noticed your gypsy earrings when I walked in.” We kicked each other under the table as every word came out of his mouth.

We returned the program to this gentleman and he proceeded to give us his business card and phone number. Apparently he works for a large non-profit and considers himself an ambassador for Rosa Parks. For some reason, this made the whole thing that much worse. As we left, we noticed his wife must have been in the bathroom while this incident was taking place because there was a drink sitting in front of another chair. I made the remark that when she came back, she jokingly said something along the lines of: “you didn’t do anything stupid or embarrassing while I was gone, did you?”

This gentleman reminded me of a man my mother and I ran into last year at this time. Maybe it is the weather. Mom if you are reading this, it was a very similar feeling as our experience in the Chagrin Valley Little Theatre. Just that look of disbelief you can’t get off your face while you wonder if you are on candid camera.