Holly and the Interesting Day

Ah, just another day in Hotlanta yesterday.
As I exited the King Memorial train station, a white dude approaches me and asks me if I want to see something cool. Convinced he is about to flash me, I nay the offer. He then proceeds to pull a clear ball out of his hand and begins to juggle it on his fingertips. No thanks.
I walk about 5 feet and I am then approached by an old lady who is leaving a very ritzy apartment complex to my left. She stops to tell me that she went to their rental office to see if they had apartments that they can rent out based on your income. They told her no, that the rent was $850 a month plus utilities. I could have told her that! They were lofts! She was thinking maybe that this might not have been the case, because the apartments now stand where Grady Homes, one of Atlanta's most renowned projects, used to stand. We then begin to have a conversation about race relations. I was drawn to her four front teeth, which were HEAVILY plaqued and yellow. She dropped a gem on me: "White folks is tryin' to send back all dem Mexicans back to Mexico because they don't have that green thing. I don't agree. They should leave them here so they can build houses for us Black folks." After that, she told me to pray that she gets approved for section 8.
On the way home, my ears were abused by the homophobic, anti-woman rantings of a man talking on his cell phone. According to his story, which I could not help but hear, he was mad because he, being a big dumbass, wanted to have drinks after work and went to this local bar. But he said everyone in there was gay. I am guessing he didn't see the huge rainbow flag draped across the door. He then went on and on about how gays are taking over the city, and how he whooped his son's ass for wanting a pair of skinny jeans. He then branched off into more ignorance, talking about how his girlfriend gives him full range on raising her kids, because women can not raise a male. I look to my left and of course, there is a single mother with her son by her side silently fuming.
So we get on the train and someone farts. He feels the need to go on and on about the fart, which told me he did it. I mean come on, you smelt it, you dealt it.
Yes, just another day in the A.