| |  When I last left you, it was right when plans had been formed for me to meet Cindy's parents for the first time. I was uneasy about this, since they don't speak english too well. Luckily for me, however, I picked up some Vietnamese phrases from my dad over the years, that he had learned whilst pillaging, raping, plundering, and of course, killing (and raping) babies...since that's really all the United States ever does when they go to another country. And of course, above all, we enjoy these things that we do, since we are by our very nature an imperialistic nation, bent on sucking the souls from those whose countries we occupy like oh-so-many Necromongers. (*hint of sarcasm*...hmm...shame that I have to add this in parentheses, but some slower people can stumble across my page from time to time and end up criticizing that which they don't understand...yes, the gentle monster that is my mind in text form). Back to the story: I mainly used "chao ahn" and "chao ba" for salutations and "cam un" for the giving of thanks. But allow me to digress from the specifics of my communication and start this weiner dog off from the beginning, and perhaps also in a linear line of redundancy before I go to the ATM machine and enter my PIN number. So my Gilette gel deodorant (with power caps...of which there is nothing powerful about), was beginning to half-life itself much quicker, as my armpit must've provided some ideal conditions for it to stop working, and revert from its gestault into useless individual ingredients that really had no business in the crevices of my body, unless they could try and muster a goddamn sense of teamwork. This was two hours before I was going to leave to see her. So I did what any American patriot would do...I strode downstairs and got myself a drink. Chimay...Belgian ale, brewed by Trappiste monks (Or by cold-hearted brewing companies, but at least in their same philanthropic spirit, of giving the world a beer with 10% alcohol by volume). I had no time to enjoy the taste, and slammed a glass...it was not enough. It did nothing. Now, I was accompanied with the shame of not being able to handle nervousness of my own, without enjoying the company of Mr. Buzz Aldrin. Yes, I like to personify my states of inebriation...or I do now, at least. So I called up Cindy, to ask her some questions about customs and courtesies. Her mother was Mrs. Vo, but her dad was Mr. Lam, and her brother was simply Vin. And it might be a good idea to bring a fruit basket...which she had mentioned days before, but I had totally forgotten. Shit. Why did they have to close Fruit Baskets-R-US? Fortunately, Korean Pears would be an acceptable alternative. So I beat feet (in my Flintstone car...or not far from it) to Super H-Mart, which I had recently been introduced to by her, and her friends Jeffrey and Sophearry. 
What the hell am I doing writing this? I got class today. TO BE CONTINUED... And the saga continues: So this H-mart place caught me off guard when I first went in there last week, after eating at Tofu Restaurant adjacent to it. I was thinking, "Holy Judas Priest's barbershop quartet fucking an old lady in confessional! This place is like a Mighty Max portal into an urban part of Seoul or Taipei..." Since I've only been to Taipei and never Seoul, but H-mart is indeed Korean, I had to adjust fire on my assumptions of what a portal leading into an urban market in Seoul would really look like. But this place had Taipei written all over it...except it was in Han'gul. I decided to get the more expensive and individually wrapped case of pears, since you know what they say about first impressions...I'm going to go ahead and assume you know what they say, since I in fact, do not. I arrive at Cindy's house to a warm greeting from her and her brother. Her mother and father come out a few seconds later..."don't fuck up the greetings like President Obama messed up on his inagural swear-in.." Showing more premonition than a mentally challenged kid in a vat of goo (that reminds me of that Goo book by Dr. Seuss...I would recommend it if you have not read it already, because it will change your life). So, there was a ton of food awaiting me on the kitchen table! All homemade, but not too obscure to scare the white-boy types of foods. Spring rolls, egg rolls, won ton soup, and fried rice..all delicious, but I was hoping they'd bust out with something a bit more up there on the scale of "mama's home cookin'-this is what we use to test whether or not you are man enough for our daughter"... To Be Re-Continued.... So apparently it's impolite to try and make too much conversation at the table with Cindy's family (from what she told me), so those are indeed, my kind of people. Eating is down to business, and insert all that nonsense later. Her brother translated while her mom interrogated questioned me about my schooling, my job, and the Marine Corps. It was like a Socratic seminar in its elegance, and I felt like some type of important diplomat...answering, *translation*, response *translation*, new question *translation*...and you get the just of it. Luckily, when I get nervous, though, I am told that I look very calm...because aside from answering all the fun questions about my life, I couldn't help but feel like I was in the midst of a game of "whiteboy in the middle". haha...goodtimes. After all was said and done with the interview process, I got to go with her to her room. It was surprisingly neat, yet she apologized for its messiness...hmm. And then came the bombardment with the plaques...Creekview Highschool Class Favorite: Most Talented; Class Favorite: Most Creative...for multiple consecutive years. This is when I realized we were even further apart in our two worlds...yet so close in so many other realms, and I was taken aback by the notion that some way we were able to forge a connection with such vastly different personalities... Picture time! 
You stay classy, free world... |
