| the background
10 years ago a plane landed at
LaGuardia airport in New York at around midnight; I was on it. All of
the lights in the airport were just too much for me, even at midnight
the place was crammed with people; people who didn't really notice or
care that they were bumping into a 6 year old child trying
desperately to hold on to his mother's hand. We must've spent two or
three hours at that airport getting all the papers we needed, going
through all the security and getting our luggage.
It's strange how I
tend to remember the tiniest details about events, but usually end up
forgetting the most important things; for example, for a family of
four I found it kind of strange that we only had four or five duffel
bags full of things, maybe it was just not enough stuff for a family
moving to a new country. We were by no means poor back home; we
could've brought along dozens of bags filled with our belongings, I
guess some tough choices had to be made and some things left
behind.
There are some gaps in my memory, one being what
happened next. All I remember is my uncle (a limousine driver at the
time) picking us up at the airport in a black stretch limo and taking
us to my grandmother's house, I remember thinking about how wonderful
America is; all the lights, the movement, the TV in the car! Then I
remember my uncle billing my father, who had just gotten into the
country three hours beforehand for the limo ride, what an asshole.
The first few weeks were spent in my grandmother's studio apartment,
I still don't fully understand how we all fit into it, but we
managed.
Shortly afterwards I was enrolled in a
public Elementary school nearby. I remember walking into class the
first day and trying to explain something to the teacher who couldn't
understand a word I was saying (probably because I knew no English at
all). None of the other kids wanted to play with the foreign boy who
dressed weird so I ended up playing by myself in some corner of the
classroom or the schoolyard. I started picking up English really
fast, by my second month in school I was able to understand most of
what was said to me and even carry on some conversations with peers;
but conversation was not enough, I saw that the kids I seemed to like
the most were the ones who could make me laugh, a sense of humor!
That's what I need! I don't know how exactly I came about my unique
sense of humor but I do remember that by second grade I was pretty
well-known for my witty statements and my smart-ass remarks.
The one thing that really shaped my
early life in America was a tour that my uncle recommended to my
parents. I remember being on a bus being driven around by a small
Asian man who did not speak a word of English; we were essentially
being driven around New York City, looking out the window and
interpreting as we saw fit. We must've been pretty lost because I
remember us going into Harlem and the bus breaking down; when the
driver stopped to ask for help some black people (maybe teenagers,
maybe adults, why does it matter?) began to throw glass bottles at
the bus, all I remember is my father taking my head and putting it
below the window-line of the bus so I wouldn't get hit. That must've
also been the first time I realized America wouldn't be all fun and
games like I remember seeing on TV or through the tinted window of
the limousine. Since this was also my first real time seeing black
people (not that many where I'm from) it may be why I am very
suspicious of them and tend to dislike them.
Oh well. |
