We drove to Niagara Falls from Toronto on June 15, the same day Nik Wallenda planned to walk across Niagara Falls on a 2-inch-wide cable. We really did not come to witness his high-wire walk, but to see Niagara Falls, and it just happened to be the same day.

The Queen Elizabeth Way (QEW) from Toronto to Niagara Falls was jammed with cars, which carried people from all walks of life to witness this supposedly sensational and newsworthy event. As a result, one hour drive turned out to be a 4-hr drive. When we finally arrived at Niagara Falls, the streets were packed with people, so was the hotel. After we checked into the hotel, we ended up in an elevator crowded with people, standing elbow to elbow.  

Suddenly I heard a man of nondescript race shouting out: “your backpack hit my baby”. It took me a couple of second to realize that he was referring to my husband’s backpack, which probably brushed the baby when my husband tried to make room for others. “Sorry, sorry, we did not see the baby”, hurriedly I apologized. He continued: “You need to be careful, my daughter is only one-year-old, ……, OK? !” I don’t remember his exact words, but that “OK” at the end of his last sentence sounded like an angry parent was disciplining his/her misbehaved child or an ill-tempered manager was scolding his subordinate. I wanted to say something, but I was too dumbfounded to say anything. Hearing no response, the man said something that really made my blood boil and turned my tongue sharp – “do you speak English, if you don’t, you should go back where you come from.” With no time to choose my words carefully, I blurt out quickly: it is very crowded here, we did not see your baby, and nothing happened to your baby. We already said sorry, what else do you want, and you are so rude”. Then his wife, who was the one holding the baby, joined the verbal fight, so did my husband. We continued to lash out at each other until they had to leave the elevator to their floor.

The rest of people in the elevator seemed to sympathize with us and tried to console us. But they really rubbed me the wrong way. I needed neither sympathy nor consolation.  I just felt sad, embarrassed, humiliated, and degraded. The moment like this had never happened to me before. Did I ever experience racism? Of course, I did, but in much subtle and subdued ways. Personally I had never met an openly and explicitly racist, so in the moment like this I lost my cool and fought a wrong fight.

The whole incident probably took only about 2-3 minutes, but it had lingered in my mind for a long time, which had thrown me off my equilibrium completely and ruined my vacation. Since that day, my husband and I have never talked about it; neither has my son asked us about it. I think we all feel embarrassed about the incident and want to put it behind us.