Racial tension in line, part 4 (at least)

So I went to a big-box department store this evening (not the one with all the workers planning to strike; the one where you can See Spot Save).

I stood in the express lane, three guests deep. The first one was already rung up. The second one was waiting for the clerk to get her register ready.

The clerk, a young woman, wore a trainee badge. She was black. Another clerk was helping her work the machine. She was white. Both were preoccupied with getting things squared away to check out the woman in front of me.

I stood at the back of the checkout belt and placed my few items on the very rear. There was a large gap between my items and those belonging to the person ahead of me. Usually that doesn't matter, because the clerk moves the belt along. But because she was new and learning the ropes, and the next items up were at the very front anyway, I understood when she didn't advance the belt.

Just then, a tall, formidable man took his place behind me. White guy, sharply dressed, big salt-and-pepper beard, cowboy hat. He looked at me with a hint of recognition, though I'm sure I've never seen him in my life. I joked to myself that it must be that fellow-white-guy nod that always makes me so uncomfortable in checkout lines.

I heard him sigh as his resonating, radio-ready baritone voice boomed:

"Excuse me, miss, can you move the belt along now?"

I looked back over at the clerk. She was still dealing with her trainer, and now the second customer to boot. I've been there. I understand. So I moved my stuff up along the belt, giving the man plenty of room to put his groceries down.

"No, you're OK," he said to me, glaring at the trainee. "It's the principle."

"Well," I said, gesturing, "It's no big deal. So much space, I just figured..."

"Well," he replied, "I have a different agenda."

I'll bet you do, I mouthed after looking away from him for the final time.

None of this description does justice to how angrily this guy was glaring at the trainee. Over a minor and understandable inconvenience, no less. 

I felt a very heavy vibe that race was an issue. Another guy he knew walked up and distracted him with an energetic conversation about football, which may well have been the only thing keeping the guy from saying, "I hate long lines caused by black people."

There must have been something to my suspicion, because after I turned around, a white girl was now manning the register.

There's got to be somewhere I can live where this doesn't keep happening. Seriously.