I expect service in a restaurant...what nerve!

Imagine the balls on me, expecting to be served in a restaurant.  I know, pushy as hell. Who do I think I am?  A friggin paying customer, that's who.  There's nothing that can ruin my appetite more than being treated like a second-class citizen while attempting to dine out.  Restaurants are busy places, and I know it gets hectic for the staff.  What gets me, is when you are dining at a heavily ethnic joint and you are ignored because the waitstaff has chosen to favor only those who speak their language.  REALLY?!?!  Are you making money in the United States?  I think you are.  How dare you tune my ass out?
Last night, we had a hankering for some Pakistani food after walking around in the Mission and smelling the heavenly scents of coriander, turmeric, and cardamom.  Mouths watering, we headed to an old favorite anxiously anticipating the cuisine we have come to love.  Glad to be seated right away, we start scanning the menu to select the evening's fare.  After making our selections, Kev goes up and orders our food.  At this place, they don't come to you, you walk right up to where they are cooking.  Seems easy, kind of foolproof, right?
That's where the fun began.  We sat, and sat, and sat.  Others came in after us, ordered food and actually got it rather quickly.  How did they manage this nifty little trick, you ask? Let me tell you.  It seems that if you hail from the same town and likely dirt road as the those who run the establishment, you get preferential treatment.  Nice, huh?  You are in MY country, making MY money, enjoying MY freedoms and you are playing favorites instead of doing your job?  Do you think I didn't notice that your homeboy got his food already and I'm still sitting here starving to death?  I noticed...and I got pissed.  Holding my tongue and my temper, I waited a little bit more in the hopes that the food was on its way. After a series of errors because the waiter had trouble remembering what food went to which table, we finally got our food, and it was delicious.  Shocking that his memory should be so spotty, since he made sure his "people" got theirs right away. This isn't the first time this has happened here.  This isn't even the first time I've been ignored at an ethnic food establishment while those of the "proper" ethnicity got the royal treatment. Reverse racism sucks...all racism sucks.
Here's the thing, I don't expect to walk into an Italian restaurant, have the employees notice that my last name ends in a vowel, and have them treat me like the only person in the place while the other patrons sit there drooling.  Although, maybe I'm missing the point.  Maybe that is how it is supposed to be.  If that did happen, every other person would get angry, rightly so.  They'd probably even complain...and they'd likely get something free as an apology from the manager.  But, sadly, I'm going to go all ethnocentric here, certain cultures think it's perfectly acceptable to ignore Americans and favor their own kind.  I am all over ethnocentricity.  Love your culture, love it and embrace the shit out of it.  I do.  But don't treat others like crap while you're doing it.
I felt like a stranger in a strange land.  I felt awkward and out of place.  I was discriminated against in my own country...by people who are here by the grace of God and the generosity of my government.  I didn't want free food, I just wanted to be treated like a person, like an equal.  I thought that's what we all were, that we all enjoyed the same rights in this country.  I guess not.  Am I going to take this sitting down?  Are you friggin kidding me right now???