Colorado Brokeback Mountain Cowboys Live in A Teepee

That title caught your attention didn't it?  Well that is a summary of this blog, I'm not kidding ya.

I did promise to tell all about my "cultural experience" at the community fundraiser for local firefighters from this past Saturday.  For those who have no idea what I am talking about, feel free to refer to "Its-wrap-up-for-this-week".  

Once again, it has been proven that Bunny and time are non-mixy.  Instead of looking up the time of the fundraiser dinner, he just assumed it begins at 8.  So when we walked up to the community hall building, we learned that the roast pig dinner was over judging by the cook and servers all smoking outside next to the roaster.  But hearing the music blaring inside, we guessed the party was still on. So we went in casually only to stop dead in the tracks at the entrance reception desk.  At the moment, I was pretty sure all eyes were fixed on me, the ONLY Asian in the whole friggin' community hall.  Although only two people from the crowd actually talked to me, I was pretty darn sure that they had all seen me at one point skipping up and down the sidewalk on my way to the local grocery store or chilling with my puppy.  Yet here I was getting the impression that I was compared to the Yeti or the Loch Ness monster where people only caught glimpses of me.  All the people stared back at me as if they haven't seen an Asian in person before (that or they couldn't decide whether I am Asian or a Native).  All that was missing was some "Oohing" and "Aahing", or worse "Let me go get my gun!"  Even when Bunny tried to diffuse the attention by offering to pay our entrance fee, the two women and men at the desk were still catatonic with their jaws slightly agape.  Finally they numbly took our money, stamped our hands, and let us in.

GUESS WHAT?
  A second round of awkwardness occurred like a deja-vu when we tried to get some beer down our empty bellies.  The grandpa-in-charge suspiciously looked at me to gauge whether I was old enough and was failing miserably since my super round face makes me look like a kid at times.  All I could do was sigh and handed out my driver license.  After that ordeal, I let out a squeal as I held my hard-earn beer in my hand.  That grandpa suddenly alarmed and was starting to debate whether I handed him a fake ID.  So I quickly high-tailed like Golem before they could take away my precious and downed the beer as fast as I could.

As we joined our friendly neighbor at their table, we were so glad that we weren't the only ones not decked in cowboy outfits.  We called our table the California rebels.  We all debated whether the dance floor was safe and decided it wasn't as a lone couple with the perfect cowboy matching outfits rampaged around the territory with crazy ninja two-step spinning moves that you see on Dancing With the Stars.  Bunny and I really wanted to strut our special moves -- me putting my feet on his and he doing all these crazy moves that equally match their master synchronized movements.  (If you compare this to diving, I'd be hugging onto Bunny like a koala while he attempts the hand-stand back flip three round move.  I think we should deserve higher marks since diving with a koala is no easy task.)  But since we didn't have enough beer yet, we decided to remain as wallflowers.  On the other hand, our neighbors were drunk enough not to care and were out there getting their John Travoltas on to country music.  After couple more songs, he semi-dared Bunny if he wanted to go out for a dance as he spun his gorgeous wife onto the dance floor for a famous cheesy slow dance song (I assumed so as all wives death glared their husband to pull them onto the dance floor).  There!  I totally agreed that Bunny should go on the dance floor and give the crowd a Brokeback Mountain style dance complete with the infamous Titanic move.  He gave me the death glare and said it wouldn't be funny.  Is it only me or would anyone else find that funny too?

If you think that was it.  NOPE.  As more and more people got drunk throughout the night, women started to come up to me with these Twilight Zone moment comments.  One of our neighbor dashed in front of me and grabbed me by the shoulder as if she had something very important to say.  I thought she was going to spill some scary secret about our rental house.

There, she exclaimed," You're Chinese right?  I LOVE CHINESE FOOD!!!  You should make me some some time!" 

I politely smiled and replied that yes I am Chinese and was still trying to process the whole Chinese food comment.  Did this mean she was stalking the house to see if I cook Chinese food or just simply stalking me.  Bunny was equally baffled.

Then there she went again,"Really!  You REALLY should make me some Chinese food some time!" (with a hint of Very very near future, like the next day).

Still we were too smart to be caught in that promise.  Plus just because I am Chinese doesn't mean I know how to cook Chinese (I DO.  On a good day.  Whenever I screw up on a dish, I just tell Bunny it's a Fusion dish.  Yup.  So next time if you try to decide whether to go for Fusion cuisine, be scared.  BE VERY SCARED.)  Unless you also can classify food being cooked by a Chinese as "Chinese food" (especially if I cut my finger and you are eating part of my fingernail and a splatter of my blood).  So when I made my yummy cinnamon buns again, I told Bunny to bring a couple over to our neighbor and announce to her it's Chinese cinnamon rolls.  Once again, he didn't think that joke would roll out well.  He is such a kill-joy sometimes. 

Chinese Cinnamon Buns y'all people.  Come get some awesome Chinese Cinnamon Buns!


Then there was a crazy woman who stumbled in front of us refusing to move aside.

Crazy Woman: Where do you live?  I've never seen you guys before.  You guys from the Trailer Park?

Do we look like trailer park people I pondered.  I mean I even wore my new hidden-heel sneakers with the Velcros (yup Macklemore would be so jealous of my Velcros!).  It must be the hoodies I suppose.

Since we were puzzled and remained silent, she continued.

Crazy Woman:  Do you have any money?  Do you want to buy my houses?  They're VERY nice houses for you folks.  (Is it me or does she sound more Chinese than I do at this point?)  So tell me about your guys!!!  Because I have to gossip about you guys to these ladies back there after (I observed these women to be the neighborhood bitch bully group earlier as they all gave death glares and cold shoulders to one specific woman who dressed in sizzling hot low cleavage tank top with ultra skinny jeans with hooker boots as she walked into the room.  I was glad I wasn't the only one in town who love hooker boots). 

Well from now on, I think I'll just carry around this house photo around and show it to people who ask whether I want to buy their houses.

Yup, we live in a teepee.  We're actually Nomads living in that shed on wheels and set camps with our majorly awesome teepee wherever we see fit.


There you have it, my first American "cultural experience" in Colorado.  I have to admit though since these people were so hammered at the time, I really couldn't fault them for what they say.  I mean at one point I did share with our neighbors about this story of that massive diarrhea episode my sister, my cousins and I had at 7-eleven when we were all kids (Sounds so exciting doesn't it?  Well that's another story to be told another time).  In reality, the people in this town are very friendly and helpful.  If it wasn't for a kind stranger, we might still be stuck up in the mountains two weeks ago.

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Practical Optimism #2 -- Be Content With Your Office Desk

Keep a Chicken Handy

Just Fart -- Practical Optimism