Over the holiday I went for a routine eye exam that turned out to be anything but routine. Standing in for my family optometrist was a greasy substitute who, within minutes of sitting me down, commented on how good my English was, with a look of utter amazement. I explained that I was born in Austin—a minor detail. Thus began a torturous eye exam that went from racial to sexual harassment, a story for another time.
Based on more recent events, the eye exam wasn't a singular, anachronistic encounter (far from). Rather, the compliment on my English was foreshadowing—for the childish jokes about my ancestral cuisine, for the fingers pointing at me and the "china" I hear from the day laborers just south of I-10.
To those of you who just don't get it, the year is 2009. Act like it, please. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to snack on your pet!
