:: Electric Psychedelic Pussycat Swinger's Club ::

:: Friday, December 26, 2003 ::

"are you a breaker or do you just dress the part?"

I'm standing in line at the bank in my hometown when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Having moved out of this town over nine years ago and currently having no ties, I wondered who could be so eager to capture my attention. As I turn around, a girl in her early twenties asks, "are you a breaker or do you just dress the part?". I give myself a once over as I don't remember what I'm wearing to give off such a signal. I've got on some jeans, puma kicks, a green/white windbreaker and my trusty gray kangol cap.

"Hmm... if i do look like a breaker, it's not intentional", i say. "Although I pop and sometimes lock'". "Wow. You're not from around here, are you?", the girl asks as I break into a smile. These words are music to my ears - a reminder of how far i've come since my high school days.

You see, my parents live in a small desert/valley town in SoCal where high school football is life and big fixed-up trucks are the norm. It's a given that you'll find most of my high school peers still living here and either bagging groceries or working at the Wal-Mart. You're looking at pretty much an all-honkey town (imagine the movie "Varsity Blues"). I tell her i grew up in this town, but have since studied in San Diego, worked in San Francisco, and now live in New York. A feeling of accomplishment overcomes me, but not because of anything specific. It's more abstract. At that very moment, I look across the room and spot someone very familiar. It's Yvonne - one of the "popular" kids from 6th grade who was quite the fox among teenage boys with raging hormones. I remember having such a hard time with girls when I was in high school. I didn't have the right car or a letterman's jacket. I was pretty much the only asian kid at school with the exception of maybe 1 or 2 other guys that everyone assumed were related to me. In every school there's that 10% that are just revered as the "cool" kids who get to go out with all the "hot" chicks or the "cool" guys. I repped more of the top 10% in academics, which unfortunately doesn't get you the babes at 17.

Fourteen years have passed since Yvonne was turning heads in jr. high and those boys are now men. Not much has changed since i've last visited home. I still see familiar faces at the grocery store, maybe a few new shoppes along the avenue. I say goodbye to the girl who tapped me as Yvonne hands me my receipt of deposit. I exit the bank with a smile on my face and memories floating around in my head, pondering what it must have been like to have peaked in high school and still having to live in this small town 9 years later. Good thing is I don't have to.

...