Eyes on Immigration

We ate dinner out on the Fourth of July. In the booth in front of me was a family of four: a woman and a teenaged girl wearing scarves on their heads, and two boys, the older if which may have been twelve.  If I absolutely had to guess I might say they were Egyptian, but really have no idea.  

Across the aisle in another booth was a tall, lean, kind of  Dennis Weaver-looking guy with his wife.  Cowboy.  Is it racist to say he looked like he watched Fox News?  How about, I wouldn't be surprised to find out he watched Fox News?

Instead of facing his wife, the man turned ninety degrees, leg on the booth seat, and watched the "Egyptian" family in front of me. Actually he glared at them. Not sure what the thinking was there.  "If I give them dirty looks then they'll leave the restaurant?  Leave Los Angeles?  The country?"

The family seemed utterly indifferent, even unaware, of the man staring. The girl was texting, and the boys were making each other giggle by trying to mimic the waitress's way of saying "hash browns".   (Neither could quite pull it off with their (let's say) Egyptian accents.  

How did he react to their refusal to be intimidated?  The next time I looked, he had fallen asleep, leaving his poor wife to gum her scrambled eggs alone. Asleep!   Where's the vigilance, Mister?  While you were dozing these four could have imposed sharia law on the joint, condemning my BLT to the ashbin of history.