Today’s soundtrack: crazy for trying
Today at 9:42pm: Doing 78 on 95.


The wedding in Connecticut was brutal. I got to the ceremony late and sat by myself in a pew at the back. The church was big and filled with sunlight and had this horrific statue of Jesus Christ--just his torso--nailed to a cross and bleeding profusely. What is it with these people.

I scanned the program, which had a list of all the people in the bridal party. In vain I scanned the list for a Lee, a Chin, a Tanaka. Nothing. Searched for a Wong, a Shin, a Morimoto. Zip.

Next I looked for a Lopez, a Trafficante, an Escobedo. Nothing. Then I looked for a Cabrini, a Martinelli, an Andante. Zilch.

What I found were Eastwoods, Smythes, O’Learys. Along with Madisons, Grants, and a Byron-Leigh. Ah.

The reverend/minister/priest guy was somewhere in his 60s. He was bald and very pink, the color of Spam. He rambled on and on about the Corinthians, which is what the reverend talked about at the last wedding I went to. I guess in terms of religious programming the Corinthians are kind of like Friends, very high ratings.

The reverend made us stand up and sit down a couple times, apparently some prayers are better understood if you’re on your feet. He said this one prayer where afterwards everyone started smooching each other, really weird. I was by myself in the back so didn’t have to worry about it though.

Next he took a swig of Cabernet and ate this piece of bread. He seemed to take a long time chewing and you could kind of hear it in the microphone. I thought it would have been funny if next he put a big Dorito in his mouth and crunched it up all noisily. Munch, munch, munch.

After the ceremony I met up with my parents. We were all hungry but the reception wasn’t for another three hours, so we drove into town to find something to eat.

Well the only thing this town had was a fucking Burger King. The three of us are all dressed up and we go into BK. Three Asians dressed in “Sunday finery” and the locals, who are fully trailer-park style (i.e. wearing a T-shirt that says “U Can’t Touch This” in flourescent letters) are looking at us like Who The Fuck Let You In Here.

We sit at a table in the corner and eat miserable little cheeseburgers. My parents are fairly dignified people so it was strange seeing them eat fast food. Anyways during a slow spot in the conversation I made the BIG, big mistake of confiding something in my parents, and the lid came off the pot.

Must remember: Where parents are involved, it is always better to lie. Tell them what they want to hear, tell them everything’s fine and give them the impression you are an upstanding citizen. It’s not like they see you more than five times a year anyway so they’d never know.

So anyways we ended up getting into a huge, occasionally heated, er, debate in the corner of the Burger King. We spent the better part of two hours going in circles, all because I can’t keep my big, fat trap shut.

At the reception we shared a table with my elder aunt, who married white. Her husband is this old cooter named John from Chicago and he was there with his Army buddy who’d done a tour in Korea. The Army guy’s name is Bob.

Bob was a real comedian, just one of those people who was born funny. Making all sorts of funny jokes and comments that had me and my parents both laughing out loud. I liked him and didn’t mind talking to him. Then he started using words like “sand nigger” and saying extremely unpleasant things about Mexicans and black people. Me and my parents were fairly shocked but my Aunt didn’t seem to notice.

Then John turns to my father and says “When you were a little boy in Korea, did the American G.I.s throw you candy bars?”

I couldn’t fucking believe it. I just stared at my plate, convinced if I lifted my eyes I would grab a butter knife and plunge it into John’s white fucking eyeball. I’d break a dish over his head while blood spurted from the wound, then I’d grab some sternos from the kitchen and do my best to set Bob on fucking fire.

Of course I couldn’t do any of that. It was my not-a-cousin’s wedding and I shouldn’t be making scenes. See one of my Aunts married white and now the rest of us have to put up with this shit.

The bride and groom sat at their own table in the center, away from it all and very happy. They made a good-looking couple and I’m glad they weren’t within earshot of our table.

The groom is half-Korean, the bride comes from a family that came over on the Mayflower. Chances are at their children’s wedding, Korean people in attendance will be few. If Bob and John are still alive they can attend and talk all the trash they want. With any luck I won’t be able to make it out to Connecticut that week because my flying car will be in the shop.