Friday, December 1st, 2017. It was an exemplarily mild, lastthird- of-autumn day in near-uptown Charlotte (NC, USA). I had just concluded a laboratory safety meeting with the chemistry staff. Roy, the 59-year-old, Caucasian, longtime lab facilitator, then asked if I wanted to join him for lunch at a nearby restaurant. Hope he doesn’t want noodles again. “What place did you have in mind?” I asked him. “How about the Mexican one?” Roy suggested, as if reading my mind. I know that Mike will want to eat there. “Sure, I like that place, Roy.” Knew it. We then began our short, .3-mile (.5 km) trek on foot to the Elizabeth Avenue eatery. As we waited to cross Charlottetowne Avenue, we witnessed a pedestrian (a 20- ish, white, male student) in the crosswalk arguing with a leftturning motorist, but nothing serious became of it. Everyone seems ready to explode at the drop of a hat nowadays.