When the color of sunshine turns ugly
August 19th 2009
Did you realize there are over 46,000 quizzes on Facebook? Even though I know these “tests” are not created by experts, I am still drawn to them. However, the results rarely surprise me except for the What color is your soul? quiz. I thought maybe my soul was red because it’s my favorite color or even orange because I have a quick temper. I would have understood if my soul was blue because I suffer from periods of melancholy. But according to Facebook, the color of my soul is yellow, “the color of sunshine.”
Apparently, yellow is associated with “joy, happiness, intellect, energy, and a strong sense of humor.” This quiz even figured out that I have a good head for business. (I guess Donald Trump’s soul is yellow, too.) I radiate a sunny personality. Sounds terrific—right? However, I remember another meaning for the word yellow: coward. Just watch some films from the 1930s and eventually a gangster will accuse one of his men of being “yellow.” In that sense, I do have a yellow soul, and I recall its worst public appearance.
I had been out drinking and dancing with two women—one friend Becky and her friend Sarah. Now Becky and I were not especially close, but she had been good to my sister while she was ill. Therefore, we tried to form a friendship despite our many differences. Though she volunteered her time to lots of causes, Becky didn’t actually work. She dry-cleaned her blue jeans. She once bought a $3000 watch just “because she could” but she had never worn it. I didn’t begrudge having more money than I did; I just didn’t understand her. Even if I had a million dollars in the bank, I cannot imagine not working (e.g., no one pays me to write my blog), I wouldn’t buy something that I wouldn’t wear, and I wouldn’t dry-clean clothes that can and should be laundered. However, she was a wonderful mother and a good person so we spent time together.
Deciding we were hungry after our evening at Howl at the Moon, Becky, Sarah, and I went to Mel’s on Sunset Blvd. The hostess sat us in the corner next to an obnoxious group of 20-somethings whose noisy racket could be heard over the buzz of the crowded restaurant. Becky and I sat next to each other with our backs to the “kids” while Sarah sat across from us. We complained about them while we waited for our food. When it arrived, I made a joke about doing something to shut them up. Becky and Sarah laughed. Without thinking, I threw the garnish on my plate—an orange slice—behind my head. Having a perfect view of what had happened, Sarah stopped laughing. Her face froze. I didn’t know it, but my aim had been flawless. The orange slice had hit one of the young women squarely in the face.
Everything happened so fast. The woman screamed, cursed, and pointed at Becky. The group turned to our table and started yelling at us. One young man accused Becky of targeting his girlfriend. There were three of us and six of them. Confused and trembling, Becky shook her head. Instead of claiming responsibility for my actions, I turned yellow. All I could muster was, “She didn’t do it. She didn’t do it.” Since oranges don’t magically fly through the air, no one was listening to me. I cannot remember any other time in my life when I’ve acted like such a coward. When I’ve allowed a friend to accept the blame for my bad behavior. When I’ve been so … yellow.
Eventually, the manager intervened and ejected all of us. (I think I may be banned from that Mels for life.) Outside, the security guard told us to stay back until the kids left the premises because they were members of an Asian gang that ran around in Hollywood. Even though our fear had been warranted, it was no excuse for what I had done. Or didn’t do. Becky barely spoke as she drove me home. Despite my numerous apologies, that incident incited the end of our friendship. Things were never the same between us. She had seen the color of sunshine turn ugly.
According to the quiz, someone with a sunny personality will also “shun responsibility, preferring freedom of thought and action.” (They always tell you the positive stuff first.) Wow. Maybe I do have a Yellow Soul—happy, humorous, and energetic, but also reckless, irresponsible, and cowardly. I can accept all of those adjectives except for the last one. I pride myself on living my life without fear. The next time I do something stupid (and I will) like throwing a piece of fruit at a bunch of gangsters, I’m going to stand up and say, “It was me. I did it. Take your best shot, asshole.” The first hit is for Becky.
AWW — XoXo
