Trip to the South
You all know that I don’t like to leave the comfortable confines of Washington DC. I’ve never really known what it is, but whenever I leave the District, I get sweaty, nervous and a little paranoid. I force myself to leave in the name of expanding my Guatemalan horizons, but, again, no me gusta.
“Excuse me, I didn’t have my car today, did you happen to hear NASCAR?”
NASCAR. I stared at this gentleman with my hand on the gas pump without really knowing what to say. I was wearing leather sandals, shorts that covered my knees and a shirt with embroidered designs. What was it about me that made this man with the dull blonde hair ask me this question? Did he not notice my Guatemalan mustache glistening in the sun?
“Oh, I didn’t see your license plate. You probably don’t even know what NASCAR eeeis. You know, I was born in Washington “Blankety-blank” DC. You can fill in what the “blankety-blank” stands for. Thanks anyway man.”
I was perplexed. What does the “blankety-blank” stand for? Who says this “blankety-blank” word? Is a it a word?
Now, this all happened as I was leaving the fine city of Richmond after a “nice little weekend away” and I apologize in advance for M. Night Shyamalanizing, but I had to give you a feel for this weekend. I couldn’t start off with my comment on the confederate flag t-shirts.
Could anyone guess where I was? Mi Linda and I took Chulo for a “nice little weekend away” in Richmond, Virginia to visit some of her friends.
The best way to describe Richmond is a city with people who have just discovered flip flops, ethnic cuisine, and the world outside of the country club. It’s like that doctor’s daughter who suddenly gets into punk music after a life of Lacoste shirts and listening to Simon and Garfunkel. Make sense?
I did see a guy wearing a “You looked hotter on Myspace” walking down the street. I’ve seen people wearing these shirts before, but it wasn’t the shirt that was interesting. It was that he had a herpes blister the size and shape of Madagascar. It was truly incredible. I couldn’t stop staring at it and Chulo couldn’t stop barking at it. I wanted to take a picture of it to show you, but I was afraid it would suddenly explode and ruin the nice little Watermelon festival that they were having. Oh yes, in Richmond, they celebrate the Watermelon. Why? I’m not sure. I felt it was a random fruit to center an entire festival around. I would have chosen a mango, guava or the tamarind, but what do I know? Do you know what we need in DC? A flan festival.
I do give Richmond the El Guapo seal of approval. I will, however, tell you about a shirt that I saw for sale at this Watermelon festival. It had, of course, a confederate flag in the middle with the tag: “If this flag offends you then you need a history lesson.” Normally, I would have been bothered by this shirt, but it was right next to another shirt that said, “White trash and proud.” That, was the only lesson that I needed.
PS: I know, I know. I went to a festival celebrating a large fruit... Mira, sometimes you do things to make women happy. It makes life that much easier.