August 24, 2002

By then, I felt like a worm on a hook, surrounded by piranha. They didn�t want me, they wanted my money.

She was an amazon, not in the sense of being buxom, but in the sense that she looked able, and willing, to snap me in half. She knelt in front of me and pushed my crossed legs aside. I felt vaguely violated, but was too flustered to push her away.

"Are you Japanese?" She asked. I hate those types of questions, I thought.

I shook my head. "Chinese, well Taiwanese actually, well my dad�s from Taiwan, my mom�s from China..." I blathered.

"You look Japanese. Must be the way you wear your hair." Like an anime character?

"Listen," I said, shaking my head, or was I simply shaking. "I don�t think..."

"Are you OK?"

"What?"

"Are you OK? You seem a little bit weird."

"I�m...I'm just a little spacy."

"Why?"

"Uh..."

"Can you guess what I am?"

"I�m not very good at that sort of thing..."

"Try."

She looked part black, part...something else. Italian, my inner voice shouted. "Uh..."

"Do you just don�t like me? Am I not pretty enough for you?"

That was low, I thought. Using guilt. All I wanted was for her to leave me alone, and I�m worried about hurting her feelings.

Again I shook my head. Did it ever stop shaking? "I�m sorry..."

"I�ll give you a free one if you guess correctly."

"I�m sorry..."

She stood up, and said, crossly, "I�m half Japanese, half Jamaican. Bye."

I sat there feeling both relieved and low.