Oh yeah. I forgot I lived in Texas.

With the way our schedules have worked out this semester - me getting up at 6 three days a week to teach classes and getting home after lunch to do some writing and Schmoobs going in to work slightly later but staying until after dinner for marching band rehearsal nearly every day - we have found that Wednesday is generally the one evening during the week where we can, if the mood strikes us, head over to the yacht club restaurant/bar in the Rich People Gated Community where we currently live as the resident working class poorfolk that (re)opened roughly thirty paces from our front door. The bar also has the added bonus of employing in near entirety the staff at our former favorite area wine bar that went into sudden (for us) foreclosure last year.

So we stopped by for a midweek cocktail last night. It was close to the 11pm closing time and the only people there were the two of us, our favorite bartender Trevor, a couple bus boys and two belligerent thirty (?) year old men slurringly arguing about something inconsequential and inane. And while Schmoobs stepped out for all of three minutes to go to the Little Schmoobs' Room, this happened:


Rich Drunk 1: "{something slurred and incomprehensible}?"

Rich Drunk 2: "{something also slurred and incomprehensible}!"

Rich Drunk 1: "Oh yeah? Well {something slurred and incomprehensible} ask Trevor and this girl over here who looks kind of Asian."

Ys: "...'kind of Asian'? I'm fully Asian, thankyouverymuch. Born in the Philippines and grew up in California."

Rich Drunk 1: "Oh really? See...

Trevor the Bartender: "Oh, I didn't know you were Asian. My wife has some Filipino friends. Can you cook any of the --"

Rich Drunk 1: "...I know you talk like you're not Asian, but I could tell..."

Ys: "Oh yeah. I can make lumpia, from my mom's recipe and a few other things."

Trevor: "I've had adobo...and 'pan-sit'?..."

Ys: "Ooh, yeah, that's good st--"

Rich Drunk 1: "Yeah, you talk with that California accent and..."

Ys: {joking around} "Oh no.  I don't have an accent. YOU ALL have accents."

Rich Drunk 1: "NO see...you talk like a white person. If I was talking to you on the phone and didn't know what you looked like, I would think you're just a white girl... You talk like you're from this country..."

Ys: "Yeah. I guess that's what happens when you've been speaking the language of this country since you were SEVEN..."

Trevor: {giggling}

And then Schmoobs conveniently came back.

But then about ten minutes later, the two thirty year old belligerent fools had left and an older drunk rich man came stumbling up to the bar repeatedly shouting about a pair of sunglasses that his wife might have left in the restaurant. And then he goes up to me and Schmoobs:

Old Rich Drunk: "Do you folks live in Chandlers Landing? My name is {can't remember}. Nice to meet you!"

Scott: "Hi. Scott."

Ys: "Ysabel. Hello."

Old Rich Drunk: "So where are you folks from?"

Ys: "Wellll...I was born in the Philippines but grew up i--"

Old Rich Drunk: "AH! The Philippines! I thought so!" {makes some weird kind of hand motion that suggests that he is indicating his nose...WTF was that supposed to mean?!}

Ys: "Riiiiggght...?"

Old Rich Drunk: "Oh, I love Filipinas. YOU must be a very happy fella!" {shoves Schmoobs on the shoulder}

Schmoobs: "Um, yup. Very happy."

Old Rich Drunk: "Yeah, Filipina women are so GREGARIOUS!"

Ys: "Hahaha. Yeah, not so much with me. Some of my family maybe..."

Old Rich Drunk: "NO! They ARE! All gregarious!"

Schmoobs: "Uh...not really..."

Old Rich Drunk: "You know! 'Gregarious'! Like 'happy'!"

Schmoobs: "That's not really what gregarious mea--"
 
Old Rich Drunk: "And demure, too. You're probably very demure, right?"

Ys: {almost spits out drink} "Yeeeah...not so much..."

Old Rich Drunk: "AH! Well, I'll leave you two alone. Nice meetin' ya! TREVOR, YOU LET ME KNOW ABOUT THOSE SUNGLASSES, RIGHT?!"

Ys: "Okay...bye."

...

Schmoobs: "I think he might have spit in my mouth."

And that was our cue to leave. Calgon, take me away!