Throwing Rocks at Racist Vehicles Leads to Good Things


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Published: July 28th 2008
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A Random Pretty LandscapeA Random Pretty LandscapeA Random Pretty Landscape

...that will no doubt bring in more readers who'll be shocked at my obscene writing.
I was walking back from work on Thursday. As usual, it was hot. As usual, it was humid. As usual, I was tired. As usual, I wasn’t getting shit.

A usual evening in Texas.

Unexpectedly, this mundane day was shattered by the roar of a pickup truck powering down the road. But this is Texas, where F-150’s, F-250’s all the way to F-750’s are commonplace. So, this event didn’t even register.

It was still a regular, boring ass day in central Texas.

What happened next, however, was completely unexpected.

The truck slowed and started crawling at a snail’s pace next to me.

What the fuck?

The window started rolling down and my New York City honed mind, immediately screamed, “Drive-by!”

I was ready to dive to the ground but my analytical mind screamed “white neighborhood!” There was no way a drive-by was happening here.

So…what?

Were they lost and going to ask me for directions? But if they were, couldn’t they see I was clearly not a local?

The window rolled down, a fat ass white motherfucker sporting a cap and sunglasses popped his head out the window and screamed, “Go back to where y’all came from, you slanty eyed fucker!”

He laughed, screamed “wooo!” pulled his head back and undoubtedly high fived his friends.

I was taken aback for a second because it was singularly one of the funniest and anger-inducing moments of my life.

But I haven’t been laid in over 8 months, I’m living in a fucking desert and I still have over 3 weeks before I finally get to leave this place. So frustration, anger and rage swiftly overtook humor.

I’m fucking crazy when I lose my sense of humor.

The truck was speeding off. Being the cowards that they were, they didn’t want to face me nor the consequences.

Fuck them.

I looked around swiftly, my eyes locked on a rock, I hefted it, rapidly calculated the trajectory to the truck and launched it without thinking.

When I look back upon that moment, I realize it’s the single most stupidest thing I have ever done.

First off, there was no way I was hitting the pickup truck. It was hitting about 45 and rapidly shifting towards 60 when I hurled my rock. It was very close
Another Reason Why Texans are RetardedAnother Reason Why Texans are RetardedAnother Reason Why Texans are Retarded

A low riding pickup truck. Similar to the one I almost destroyed
to the boundary of my range. And missing was going to be bad. Remember, I was standing on the sidewalk of a really busy intersection. There were other cars on this road. A lot. The chances of me hitting another car were pretty good.

Second, if by some sheer luck I did manage to hit the truck, I would’ve killed someone. No doubt. That rock was about 10 ounces and even with my meager throwing arm, it would’ve been going at least 70mph. And if it didn’t hit someone, it definitely would’ve made the driver swerve and hit something.

Third, there were at least 4 beefy Texans in the truck. I would’ve gotten my ass kicked if my rock had taken out just a taillight or a mirror or something inconsequential. Actually, I would’ve easily outran them but its not hard to find out where the one Asian in town lives.

So by and large, it was a lose-lose-lose situation and one of the stupidest things I’ve done (stealing a cop car will still grace the top of the list). But if I could reverse time and be back in that situation again, would I still do
S&M, T-Camp and Yours TrulyS&M, T-Camp and Yours TrulyS&M, T-Camp and Yours Truly

Doing a dance honoring diversity
it?

Hell yeah!

I can say that because of two things.

One, I missed. Being Asian there was no way I was going to hit a moving truck with a rock. Yes, I’m Japanese and decent at baseball. But baseball requires you to hit at stationary, or close to stationary, targets (usually, you’re throwing to one of four bases or a cutoff man stationed in line to one of the four bases). What I was attempting was more in the realm of a quarterback hitting a wide receiver in triple coverage (the other cars being the coverage).

But I’m also a male, so I had good form and it landed close enough to the truck that it didn’t hit any other cars. And because it didn’t hit the truck and the cars, I didn’t get my ass kicked and my conscience was clear.

The second reason? What happened immediately afterwards.

I heard a gasp as the rock landed oh so close to the truck and shattered into a few pieces. My shoulders slumped in defeat and from the tiredness that accompanies the descent from adrenaline infused agitation. I slowly turned around to look at
One of the TablesOne of the TablesOne of the Tables

and a huge ass bottle of vodka
the source of the gasp.

She was an Asian girl sitting outside of the Starbucks. Asian girl referring only to her slanty eyes as she was wearing Abercrombie and Fitch, listening to some “alternative” music on her iPod touch while taking sips of her $7.50 Starbucks iced cappuccino latte while trying to show the world how cool her classes were by having her textbook and notebook open in front of her while intermittently chatting with her friends on her white MacBook laptop.

But she was Asian. And that meant we could easily bond over this. Adrenaline started filtering back into my system and I perked up a bit.

But I had to play it cool. “DON’T FUCK UP!”

I sat down in the chair across from her without asking and looked straight at her.

“Does this happen a lot down here?”

“No, not really…” She was still kind of shocked about the whole sequence of events.

“Has it ever happened to you?”

“No…what you did was pretty crazy, you know.” Here I had a choice: either act like a macho man and tell her this was nothing close to crazy (which is
Leads to...Leads to...Leads to...

Six of them being stacked together for beer pong
true)…or tell her this was just a spur of the moment reflex (which is kind of true).

I hadn’t even been this close to a girl in all 8 weeks in Texas. I chose the latter.

“Yeah…I don’t know…I guess I got really angry about what they said…I wasn’t thinking…it was like instinct. I’ve never ran into this from where I’m from…” If you’ve been paying attention, I’ve kept reiterating the fact that I’m not from around here. Why? Because girls that like to show off how cool and intelligent they are (like this one) are really happy when they get to tell a New Yorker all the ins and outs of their town. Plus, talking about New York City, Tokyo and Montreal gets most small towners wet.

“Yeah, I’ve never had this happen either…” She was still dazed…and then something clicked behind her eyes and she got focused. “Wait, you said you weren’t from here. Where are you from?”

Fishing with dynamite. Hunting with napalm.

I leaned over, hand extended.

“Hi, I’m Gen from New York City.”




We talked until she finished her Starbucks concoction and then I bought her
42 beers42 beers42 beers

4 people (one of them female)
another one, which she gladly accepted. Which reiterated the fact that she was a woman (she accepts gifts) and Asian (“Free!? OMG! I don’t have to spend money!”).

By the time we had said our goodbyes and parted ways, I had gotten her number, plans to meet the week after and a pretty good outline of her life: She’s from Austin, 3rd year Poli Sci major (surprise, surprise!), “absolutely loves NYC and wants to live there” because she’s watched Friends and Sex and the City (I tried not to vomit into my coffee) and like all hipster college kids, wants to travel the world and “visit places” so she can get a “better view of the world and…you know”.

Being from a university that is breeding ground for the most ultimate of hipsters (the Northeastern one), I know how to deal with them and what buttons to push (although I seldom do as I can’t fucking stand them). But this is probably my one chance to have anything remotely close to dating (or kissing or fucking) in Texas so instead of debasing her idiotic values, I started buttering her up like a Southern black woman does to her
Catch the AsianCatch the AsianCatch the Asian

He's jacking the beers
biscuits.

Some lines I am ashamed to say came out of my mouth from the conversation:

“Oh man, I can’t find any places to shop for clothes around here. Do you know where I can find an American Apparel outlet?” Apparently, she can’t believe it either, and you have to go to Houston to find one but there is an American Eagle, a Hollister and an A&F at the mall! I’m wearing Air Jordan shorts, a baseball jersey, a fitted and Nike running shoes but my attire is not commented on.

“I love Japan. I discovered my roots and I went to temples and parks and tried meditating.” Which, by the way, is fun to do in its own right, but not what I associate with my love for Japan. She wants to go to Asia for the same reasons! What a coincidence!

“The culture of Montreal is amazing.” Ugh. A disgusting line.

“I can speak French.” The lines get worse. And border somewhere between bending the truth to outright lying. I can’t speak French. I know enough to get by and I know enough to tell a girl she’s hot. For my punishment, she attempts to impress me with her rendition of “bonjour” in her Texan accent, which mangles the pronunciation into a position somewhere between a horrendous 80’s rock band from New Jersey (Bon Jovi) and a Mexican guitar-like instrument (Banjo).

“Flip flops are amazing. But Birkenstock are the best!” I’m literally gulping down my coffee to stop the bile from ascending up my throat.

“The first car I’m buying is a hybrid!” In a related sidenote, Teddy and I have promised each other that we’re buying Cadillac Escalades with 28 inch dubs when we become rich and famous.

Am I a horrible person? Of course.

But I got her number…

But the drought continues.




Skipping into my dorm because I’ve finally gotten a really good lead, but feeling a little dirty because of the tactics I used and the shit that came out of my mouth, I went over to T-Camp’s room. We blasted Southern rap to purify myself and then to make sure the purification was complete, we went to S&M’s room to drink.

Since week 7 of the program, all the non-losers (who I would usually call winners, but since none
Me, shootingMe, shootingMe, shooting

And making it in
of us have gotten even a taste of anything, I will still call non-losers) have started playing beer pong. Why did it take so long? Because we didn’t have a table.

So for 7 weeks, we didn’t play until we collectively realized we could stack all of our small tables into one giant behemoth of a table. So now we keep all 6 tables in S&M’s room (he has the speakers) for easy playing.

Now we can’t stop playing. Beer is cheaper than water and we’re all getting paid. We play 4-6 days a week and get completely trashed everynight.

And the best part? I’m good at beer pong and I’m not exaggerating. I’m arguably the best out of all the players. I don’t know what it is…the angles and trajectories I can easily calculate, my really bad tolerance (everyone knows the drunker you are, the better you are) or my Asian genes suddenly going into overdrive when I hold that ping pong ball (see related tags: Asia, dominance, ping pong).

Either way, I’m definitely good. And I make sure people know it since it’s the only sport I’m good at. Recently I’ve been teaming up
S&M shootingS&M shootingS&M shooting

And clearly not making it in
with L-Cass, who’s the only female in our group that drinks, which by default makes our team the most likely to tear an MCL. Anyway, she has been teamed up with me to keep the playing ground level as I was tearing shit up with other partners.

However, turns out we make an amazing team. She hits when I’m cold. I hit when she’s cold. We rock. And she’s from Albany, NY so it’s clear we can proclaim NY as the best state when we win.

Anyway, I was pumped because I had just done real well with the Starbucks Hipster and because she had lightened my mood, I was able to recount my rock throwing tale with humor instead of spite. I was ready to dominate.

And dominate we did. The first game was really close as it was down to one cup each but I sunk it. The splits: 6 cups for me (all of them early except the last one), 4 cups for L-Cass (all the middle and end game cups, which are decidedly harder to hit).

The next game was close as well, but I utterly destroyed. It was down to one cup each again and again I sunk it for the win, but amazingly, our split was a ridiculous 10-0 in my favor. The closest analogy I can find is when Wilt Chamberlin posted up 100 in a game. Just no teammates. One person just taking over.

Enough of the beer pong statistics (I can’t help but gloat about something that I’m actually good at), but after a few games, I was tanked. This game requires you drink in small amounts, but at an extremely high pace. And when you’re winning, it becomes a lot of beer you drink at an extremely high pace.

Everyone peaced out, but me, L-Cass and Ben (a guy from South Carolina in the program) still wanted to do stuff. “Still do stuff” happened to mean “do nothing” as all we did was sit in front of the TV in the lobby (which oddly enough, was pretty crowded at 1am on a weekday) and watch highlights on Sportscenter.

I sat down on the couch, laid out. Ben sat down in an armchair, leaving one armchair for L-Cass…

Which she totally ignored as she lay on the couch with her body pressed up against mine in the little spoon position.

It didn’t register at first since I was focused on the Mets dismantling the Phillies to take 2 out of 3.

Then the sensory information finally hit my brain.

Oh shit.

The 2008 Texan Summer League starts now!

I looked down. I guess I should’ve expected this considering my amazing luck. But I hadn’t. I had no idea L-Cass was even interested in me. She had thrown me no hints. And suddenly this.

Holy shit.

I actually had no idea what to do (remember, I suck at initiating stuff when girls start spooning me) and hoped as an American girl, L-Cass would take the initiative in this situation like Chiaki never did.

I leaned back, one eye on Sportscenter, the other on L-Cass.

She kept looking back at me to talk to me about random shit and I kept answering like a fool, getting more and more frustrated as she showed no hint of taking the lead.

Finally frustrated to my breaking point by her breaking pitches, I asked her a question.

The first pitch of the 2008 Texan League...

And she turned around to answer me.

It sails
Down I GoDown I GoDown I Go

A lot of beers, a lot of pong
in…

And I just started making out with her.

He hits it back up the middle for a single!

It felt wonderful. Not only because it was the first hit in a long, long, long, long time but she was good at kissing (and I like to think I am too).

I spent a good twenty minutes at first, then barreled into second base but instantly Ben cleared his throat and we were quickly reminded of our location. The dorm lobby. A public place. Other people were walking in and out. The security guard was pretending we weren’t there while all the cameras were no doubt trained on us.

I started laughing.

L-Cass started laughing.

And then I got up, pulled her up, we hustled over to my room (it was closer), got on my couch and started up once again.

Another single for Gen! 2-2 for tonight!

I hit second running and then L-Cass spoke up, “I left my keys and wallet are in the lobby on the table.”

“Ben will keep them.”

He was momentarily pulled off the bag, but he’s back at second!

“No, Gen…come on.”

I stayed on second.

My roommate coughed and started opening his door…

“Let’s go get those keys.” I pulled her up from yet another couch, got her keys in the lobby, went to her room, got to her bed, she changed into her pjs and then in her bed, I smoothly hit yet another single, hit second, hit third and then finally, finally, hit home.

Later, I was laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell this happened. Last night I was nowhere close to anything, and then I threw a rock at a pickup and now my luck has completely reversed. Now I’ve just gone 3-3 with a homerun and I have this hipster girl lined up.

I had no idea L-Cass liked me, or even considered me within the boundaries of fuckable…I mean I thought I had no chance with her. I even showed her this blog and all the nasty shit I've done…she reads this shit. She knows about the IRP, Osaka, Chiaki, etc. We just fucked. She knows I’m going to write about it. Why the hell did she do it?

And then I started laughing as a line creeped into my head.

Girl sucked my dick and I made her throat famous...

On TravelBlog.


The drought is over...bitches!


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28th July 2008

Kyou no Caaaarp ha katsu! katsu! katsu!
Banzai! Banzai! Banzai! Just got back from Hiroshima with broski. Congrats on the first home run of the season! If you can shell out hits in the Texas league just think about what you can do when get back to the J's or even MTL! As for your recent acquisition...she may look AZN gen, but she sounds white to me. Sounds like just another American righty...good choice for a few innings of releif, might be a bad choice for a closer.
28th July 2008

DERTAY!
now that's how you "get 'er done!"
28th July 2008

Yahtzee!
31st July 2008

huzzah… put cake
1st August 2008

Although I'm a sucker for sweeping confessions of love, sweeping a girl into bed works, too. I approve. Just make sure to get me the details during our next drunk AIM convo...
2nd August 2008

Replies
Teddy-maybe, but considering the state of my team...ill take any pitcher ready to pitch in the majors. sometimes, its heart>skill and a relief pitcher will become a starter. Cory-word! hit me up with those crazy aussie stories in sept. alpha male-Maybe in my sr yr, ill become an alpha. maybe. moggiwog-put that in your pipe.... muffin girl-will do. will do.
6th August 2008

Wow
Gen...you hit a homerun for the first time in 8 months and you're this excited!? You've completely fallen off your game...I'm ashamed to say that we dated once

Tot: 2.235s; Tpl: 0.1s; cc: 10; qc: 32; dbt: 0.0273s; 1; m:saturn w:www (104.131.125.221); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.3mb