If you think life is crazy, you oughta try being a Mexican in Roanoke, VA. This is Southwest VA - Enchilada Style!

Monday, April 25, 2005

Moose Lodge Karaoke

This past Friday night found me at the nearby Moose Lodge in Vinton. The quaint little white building at the hill of a busy intersection was adorned with a crowded parking lot, and I made my way in through the locked door after they buzzed me in. I smiled my hello at the overly-suspicious senior citizen guarding the entrance, then headed to the bar. It was Karaoke night, and the bartender let me know there was a live band downstairs in the dance hall. The natives were definitely restless.

I ran into some friends, and they invited me to sit with them at their table. Several of them got up to sing, and one of the girls in the little group asked me if I had ever done Karaoke. I confessed I'd sang before, and she asked me what song was my favorite. I told her the only song I really knew was "Devil Went Down To Georgia" by Charlie Daniels.
Her eyes got big, her voice got louder and higher in pitch as she shrieked "Oh, do it! Do that one! Do it! Will you do it?!" I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm, and I tried to reassure myself it was normal for her to be just a little too excited. I finally agreed to do the song for her, and I figured if it didn't go over well, at least it would be a chance for me to get on stage and let everyone in the room know I could speak English.

About half an hour later, the cellphone-enhanced Karaoke guy blurted out my name in his best radio DJ voice. I took to the stage with cheers and motivational "Git-r duns" from my table. When I got to the stage, I walked over to the Karaoke guy for the microphone, then walked over to the monitor to get ready. I motivated myself to give the crowd my best performance. All sorts of questions ran through my mind - Would I dance? Would I play air guitar? Would I get an infection from the microphone? My inspiration was cut short, however, when the Karaoke guy took me aside to ask that I don't cuss during the song. He went on to explain how there was a line in the song that said the "B" word, and he didn't want me to say it. I was a bit disappointed with the creative constraints, but I pressed on.

My song started. I read along as best I could, and I felt comforted by the half dozen people or so who got up to dance. I felt better when I saw them dance. My rationale was if they danced, then I must not sound as bad I thought I did. The song rolled on, and I finally got to the controversial part of the song. When it came time for Johnny to "done tell" the devil once that he's "the best there's ever been", Johnny graciously addressed old fiddle-playin' Lucifer as "you son of a gun" rather than with the original expletive. I decided to live on the edge when I opted to use son-of-a-gun instead of son-of-a-gosh. The song was finally over, there came the obligatory applause, and I made my way back to my table. The motivated girl who'd practically begged me to sing congratulated me, and reassured me I did a great job. A few minutes later, the very same girl turned to me and once again asked me in her most overly-emphatic way if I sang, and what song I was going to sing. (Insert speechless blank look here.)

I looked closely into her eyes and realized she was drunk. She had probably been drunk for a good while, and I can't believe I hadn't noticed it. ("But she looks so normal," whined the voices in my head.)

I knew it was going to be an interesting night after that.

Friday, April 22, 2005

What To Call Them Messicans

If you've ever felt nervous about not knowing what to call us,
(Hispanic, Latins, Latinos, Spanish, etc.)
I'm here to tell you not to worry about it.
To be honest, I have no idea myself.

My beat-up Webster's dictionary defines hispanic as being
"Of or relating to Spain or a Spanish-speaking person."
It defines Latin as being "the language of ancient Rome" and
Latino is defined as "a Spanish-speaking Latin American."
(Insert confused look here.)

If I dig a little deeper, I find the following:

A person of Spanish-speaking heritage, esp. in the United States is defined as a "Latino".
A Spanish-speaking person, or a Hispanic-American
is also defined as a "Hispanic".
So many definitions, and I still don't know what I am!
I know one thing with certainty, though; all these definitions are enough to give me a schizophrenic complex no green card could legally cover!

As a result of all this confusion, I've grown to feel comfortable identifying myself as "Mexican." It just makes more sense to me. After all, I was born in Mexico. This will probably not help your plight, however.
All things considered, you'll fare well now that you know to call me Mexican. But God help you if you call some guy from Puerto Rico a Mexican! It's almost like calling a man from the south a Yankee!

The best thing to do when you're not sure what heritage or nationality a person identifies with is to simply ask. A simple (and complimentary) "Where were you born?" or maybe a "Have you lived in the U.S. all your life?" will give you good information.

Just please don't start doing the tacky Cheech-And-Chong movie bit and start mouthing off like that border patrol agent when he asked "Whurr wurr ya boarne??"
I swear if just one more person gives me that line from the movie, I'm going to whip out a tortilla and smack them right upside their enchilada!

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Torturing Telemarketers

I'll be the first to admit I'm dangerous on the phone. I can be even more dangerous if I answer the phone, and there's a telemarketer on the line.
Here are a couple of examples:

  • "Hello, I was just calling to ask how much you're paying on your mortgage. Are you paying more than 15%?"
  • "No, I'm not."
  • "Oh, well, are you paying close to 15%?"
  • "No."
  • "Oh, well I have some wonderful information about how we can help you lower your-"
  • "I rent."
  • " - click. "
***************************************************
  • "Hi, is the homeowner home?"
  • "Yes, and thanks for calling. Bye, now! - click."

Sunday, April 10, 2005

Vent Against Cellphone Users

Have you ever noticed how some people will allow their cell phone to ring a few times too many before they answer it? What's the deal with that?


It's almost like they're trying to attract attention to themselves by pretending to be in some sort of great demand. There should be a rule that if you don't answer the phone by the third or fourth ring, you forfeit all rights to control your cell phone. At that point, the phone should quit ringing, or someone near you has the unequivocal right to snatch the phone from you and fling it like skipping stone at Smith Mountain Lake.

I mean, honestly; what are these people thinking when they let their phone ring like that? Are they expecting us to be impressed?

Do they hope we're thinking:
"Oooh, his cellphone is ringing, he must be REALLY important! Ooooh! And look, it's still ringing! They must REALLY wanna talk to him 'cause he's soooo important."

How 'bout "no"? Letting the phone ring like that doesn't make people think you're important. Quite to the contrary, it lets us know you're slow, annoying and desperately lonely. It just lets everyone know you're desperate for attention.

So the next time your cellphone rings, answer the darned thing or shut it off. Other people in the elevator, or on the bus, or in a crowded room don't care about your ring tones or text messages. Get your "attention fix" somewhere else.