Monday, December 22, 2008

One Persian Night

My son B-Boy had a gig last Saturday at a big Iranian Party and asked me to go with him for some free food and entertainment, as he was able to bring 2 guests (the other one was Girlfriend). He created a special dance routine for himself and a partner (a Peruvian b-boy), burned the proper music to a CD and prepared the clothes to wear for the dance.

Persian King

The Party venue was very very far and it was soooo cold that night, but we managed to get there on time. The organizers have rented a huge hall, that normally serves as an athletic and racetracks ground; there must have been at least a hundred tables set up. On one side was the elevated podium for the dancers and singers and on the opposite side was the food area, with about 20 lines for people to queue up to a buffet, with the food being served by young volunteers.

We shared a table with an Iranian family; they were very nice and hospitable, although the communications were a bit hesitant, half-French, half-English, with lots of smiles and nods. The food was simple, but delicious, and we all had seconds and thirds.

Meanwhile, B-Boy and his partner kept asking the Iranian friend who got them the gig when they are going to perform and each time, they got wishy-washy non-commitmental answers: soon, any minute now, after this number, etc.. Eventually, he said: You will perform last, after all the other acts. We would find out why, later on.

Meanchile, despite repeated warnings from the Iranian friend of the importance of restraint and modesty in this conservative family environment, Girlfriend, who is a pale blond Irish girl and stood out like a fly in a milk saucer, decided that it was a good idea to be all over B-Boy, pulling him to her, kneading his thighs at the table, etc.. She was the perfect clichéed image of the over-sexed white bimbo that Middle-Eastern mothers warn their sons about. The Iranian women at our table asked me whether Girlfriend was my daughter-in-law, and without thinking, I said: "No, she's my son's friend". I immediately realized my mistake when they said: "Oh.. friend", with such a tone, dripping with contempt.

So it was no surprise when the security guards arrived to question us and challenge our right to be at the Party. B-Boy called the Iranian friend who arrived and mumbled and fumbled for a long time with the security people. Turned out he did not get the proper authorization to offer a gig to B-Boy and his partner. The Peruvian b-boy was very upset because he was convinced he was singled out because of racism. I guessed that I would be very upset and embarrassed too, if I were a normal Vietnamese. As it is, I felt sorry for the Iranian friend for his huge loss of face, and for B-Boy and the Peruvian partner, because they had trained and prepared for this gig for naught.

Angry Peruvians

Anyway, we decided to leave. And that night and the next day, B-Boy, Girlfriend and I, we all had diarrhea. As Yosemite Sam would say: "That'd learn ya!".

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