I consider myself, like most Ithaca students, liberal. I think I’m the smartest person in the room , I don’t buy things from Wal-Mart, and I listen to the Grateful Dead. But I am not a fucking hippie. I shower.
A few weeks ago, I worked for a food vendor at the Grassroots Festival with a few other kids around my age, whom I got along with pretty well. Our supervisor was a man of middle-eastern descent. I got along with him too. A very easy-going man, we could joke around and give each other a hard time. I soon learned that he nearly used the guise of being a vendor to enjoy the music scene.

One day at the festival, after getting off the phone with someone, speaking in a different language, he instructed me to rinse something out using a colander, ya know, a strainer. But with his accent, the word ‘colander’ sounded like ‘calendar,’ ya know, a dayminder. I wasn’t even the first one to joke about his accent, but I’ll admit that it was humorous. It was one of the other kids that said, “You mean a CAH-LINDER, boss?”
Then, hippie-bitch that worked with us tried to pull the righteous card. “Real mature guys, make fun of a man not from this country about his accent.” I was okay with this, everyone has those few words we can’t say right. But then she came out with, “Let’s see how good your Hebrew is.”
Furious. Go take a shower, hippie.
