Last Saturday, I saw my niece Emmalie her middle school production of Dracula. My favorite part was the witty banter between me and my older sister under our breaths. We enjoyed the urbanized slang the upper middle-class white kids had thrown into the play to add a fresh, youthful perspective. I could totally hear the "z" on the ends of words.
During intermission, my sister worked the concession stand where they sold candy and carnations- because nothing says, "I felt obligated." like a carnation. When I approached, a little Asian girl gave me her seat. I was surprised by her manners (kids "these days" allegedly have none) and asked her, "Don't you want to sit?" She shook her head, so I sat down.
I bought some Starbursts and offered her one. She declined and I said, "Let me rephrase that. Would you like some candy from a stranger?" That got me a cute little smile back. I asked where her mom was and when she pointed out an older, very pale white lady, I almost blurted out, "I think you were adopted!" but refrained because I didn't have the heart to tell her.
The play concluded with Vlad the Impaler being choked by the scent of garlic because stakes were considered weapons and banned from the production. Then for the finale, all the kids danced to Thriller, Philippine prison style- though lacking the island spirit. Dracula is supposed to be scary and these kids were cute- not scary.
Know what was scary? Upon our exit, my brother-in-law's parents told me that they have an American car from 1976 with 293,000 miles on it. Freaky. Though I suspect it's actually an Asian car in disguise... I just didn't have the heart to tell them.