The Carsons are in Monaco for the first time on a vacation for the kids and a business meeting. They arrive in a private helicopter while I’m also in Monaco, my homeland, visiting. I’m walking into the private VIP parking lot where my car is, and the Carsons are in the same parking lot heading toward their own car when they notice me. They’re immediately confused because I’m Black, and I’m the first Black person they’ve seen since arriving. They genuinely assume I’m some hood American Black boy in a wealthy European country, not even realizing I’m actually from Monaco. Seeing me there starts making them question everything they thought Monaco was supposed to look like. They don’t know me, and I don’t know them, but the moment they see me, the assumptions are already there. Meanwhile, I’m just walking to my car like normal, completely unaware that an entire family is quietly having an identity crisis in a VIP parking garage because a Black person existed confidently in expensive surroundings. Monaco really exposes people fast. One minute they’re sipping imported water pretending to understand European luxury culture, and the next their entire worldview crashes because a Black teenager exists near a Ferrari without looking lost. Tiny country. Massive ego damage.