White Sheep

Who would be the opposite of Rosa Parks?  Lenny Smith, a generic white boy who's a janitor at a Chick-Fil-A?  Because that's who we felt like one weekend at a hotel my wife and I stayed at.  We felt like a Lenny Smith in a sea of jazz loving black people.  We went to a hotel and we were the only white people in the hotel.

There was a jazz band playing later that Friday night and we just came back from dinner and I really wanted to stay and hear the music.  But we went to the lobby and all eyes were on us.  It wasn't a "What are you doing here Whitey?" kind of look.  More like a, "You're out of place, but we appreciate your business."  It's a weird feeling to be nervous and calmed by Sade type music.  My wife felt out of place, so we decided to get the hell out of that lobby and go up to the room and watch some analog tv.

The hotel gave us a card to redeem for two free drinks and later in the night I asked if my wife wanted to use them.  We pretty much looked at each other and said, "I'm not going back down there and feel out of place."  I left the "We're Asleep" sign on the door knob until our check out at noon the next day.

National Harbor was a fun atmosphere overall.  Cold.  If you're looking for ice cream though, there's a Ben & Jerry's stand.  But it's a shitty little hot dog looking stand.

  

The Mauneys

My mom, brother, and I would always go to the Mauney’s for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.  I think the Mauney’s were friends of people who let my mom live with them when she came to the States from Taiwan in the 70’s.  I’m not really sure since my mother never explained things to us and I think it was because she thought we didn’t deserve to know anything.  That or she didn’t think my brother and me were important enough to know anything like that.

When we arrived, we’d get out of the car and my mom would sternly say, “Go to the door and knock, bring this dish Charlie.  And Dulles, take this flower arrangement.”  It was always awkward going up to the door and being greeted with my mother still dillydallying at the car.  She always made things harder than need be.  I’ve always thought, “What’s the difference?  Why can’t we just go to the door at the same time?” 

Mrs. Mauney’s daughter would open the door and let us in.  Then we would be surrounded by older adults that we had nothing in common with.  This is quite possibly the point in my life where I got my disdain for small talk.  My brother and I would be bombarded by a slew of conversations like, “How’s the weather Bonnie?”  “I picked up this great dog calendar for you Jeanette.”  “Taste this mother, was I supposed to put sugar and milk in the rice?  Or just butter?”  There wasn't a Nintendo in the house or anything to pass the time for Dulles and me.  We had to succumb to watching Unsolved Mysteries.  Robert Stack's voice is still so vibrant in my mind.  Probably because he was also the voice of Ultra Magnus in the 1985 animated Transformers movie.

And what's disturbing is that holiday's are supposed to be about joy and family time, but with my mom it was about being ignored at these get togethers.  It was her way to show off in front of other people and telling people how bad my brother and I were.

Once at a Thanksgiving dinner at the Mauney's my mom got everyone in a circle like a Boy Scout campfire and talked about how I spent 40 cents on an ice cream sandwich.  I actually thought I did something wrong but at least Martha, Mrs. Mauney's daughter stepped in and contended for me.  "If he wants to get a 40 cents ice cream, let him get a 40 cents ice cream, there's nothing wrong with that."  In my head what I was thinking was, If I want to get a fucking 40 cents ice cream, I'll get a 40 cents fucking ice cream. Okay, maybe I didn't think that at the time, but that's what goes through my head now.

Hello, I'm Charlie Chang

Hello, I'm Charlie Chang.  I know, my name sounds fake.  I promise you, I'm telling the truth.  I've always had this underlying feeling that people think my name is fake because whenever I introduce myself to someone, they look at me, cock their head like a dog and kind of say and ask, "Charlie Chang?  Oh." 

Or I talk to an older person and they all inevitably tell me about a tv show featuring a detective named Charlie Chan.  Even though 9 seconds earlier I specifically pronounced the "g" sound on the end of my last name.  I think a lot of white people lump all Asians together.  Or think similar sounding last names are all the same.
  

So yeah, that's my name.  I'm really glad you stopped by.  I have so many ideas for books, a book on my 6 years of college life that could include the story of the girl who wanted me to finger her on an elevator, which the building was only two stories.  I don't know how far she wanted to go and plus that was a lot of pressure on me.  I have some ideas on a book about religion and a zombie book.  But I figured that I'd just write my story for now and let it be that.  If any of those things and ideas enter into this blog, I will gladly welcome them.

So enjoy.  Pop some popcorn or something.  Or get some coffee.  Because we all know popcorn and coffee go together.