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complimentary hi-speed internet
Aug. 18th, 2006 01:48 amI'm in the Hampton Inn on US-63 in Rochester, MN. My sister is getting married on Saturday, and my mom, dad and I flew Northwest to get here. We're in room 105 and my dad is snoring the shit out of the place. So I'm making use of the complimentary hi-speed internet. It's 1:48 am here, but it's 2:48 there. I'm tired, but my neck really hurts and I've never been too good at falling asleep in hotel rooms, especially those shared with my parents.
This is the first time we've been together as a family since Priv got married the first time, which was when I was still in high school. It's so goddamn fucking awkward. My little niece Maia breaks the tension a little, but not enough for me to stay here any longer than I have to. She's plenty cute. But it's difficult watching my parents fawn of her. They've got a really annoying and unconvincing way about showing affection toward things. I don't think I've ever been 100% sure of their affection toward me or anything else.
The first thing I did this morning was throw up. Today was a shitty day.
Traveling, or doing anything with my parents outside the house, brings out the worst of our qualities. Ugh. Passing through security at La Guardia was a fucking taxing experience. My mom and I breezed through, it wasn't any more strict than any other post-9/11 flights I've taken. But my dad, since his heart attack, got a pacemaker installed. TSA is suspicious enough of the brown-skinned; having a pacemaker doesn't help the situation at all. So my dad's security check was more intrusive. They questioned his inhaler and wanted documentation that it was prescribed to him. There's my dad, sitting shoeless and beltless, and my mom shuffling through the medicine she doesn't trust him to carry. She pulled out this bag of 10 or more orange bottles of medicine, all prescribed to him for any number of ailments. A goddamn pharmacy for one man. While the security guard hovered over him, waiting for proof that this small, feeble, and (smart as he is) oblivious old Indian man isn't a threat to national security. It was really too much for me, so I turned my head. Everything seemed fucked up at that point.
I need to permanently remove myself from these people ASAP.
Today I tried on the tux. The pants were too long because I'm low-waisted and the arms were too short cause I've got long arms. I guess they made the adjustments, but I didn't try it on again, so we'll see. I think the best way to go about this weekend is to speak as little as possible, to smile and nod. If something anyone does gives me a bad feeling, to admit that it's more my fault than his or hers that I feel that way. I've got to be distant, I think. But not so much that it raises suspicion and draws more attention than it deflects. I've got to chime in at the right moments. Establish enough presence to make it easier to wallflower. Above anything else, I want people at the end of this weekend to say, "boy, he was really good about everything. A real sport."
The wedding is going to be tough. The groom's family far outnumbers us four Shenoys. And once my sister says "I do," that's one less. The girl I marry better be ready to elope, because fuck this shit.
I went to the Best Buy here. It's much smaller than the one I work at and a lot neater.
This is the first time we've been together as a family since Priv got married the first time, which was when I was still in high school. It's so goddamn fucking awkward. My little niece Maia breaks the tension a little, but not enough for me to stay here any longer than I have to. She's plenty cute. But it's difficult watching my parents fawn of her. They've got a really annoying and unconvincing way about showing affection toward things. I don't think I've ever been 100% sure of their affection toward me or anything else.
The first thing I did this morning was throw up. Today was a shitty day.
Traveling, or doing anything with my parents outside the house, brings out the worst of our qualities. Ugh. Passing through security at La Guardia was a fucking taxing experience. My mom and I breezed through, it wasn't any more strict than any other post-9/11 flights I've taken. But my dad, since his heart attack, got a pacemaker installed. TSA is suspicious enough of the brown-skinned; having a pacemaker doesn't help the situation at all. So my dad's security check was more intrusive. They questioned his inhaler and wanted documentation that it was prescribed to him. There's my dad, sitting shoeless and beltless, and my mom shuffling through the medicine she doesn't trust him to carry. She pulled out this bag of 10 or more orange bottles of medicine, all prescribed to him for any number of ailments. A goddamn pharmacy for one man. While the security guard hovered over him, waiting for proof that this small, feeble, and (smart as he is) oblivious old Indian man isn't a threat to national security. It was really too much for me, so I turned my head. Everything seemed fucked up at that point.
I need to permanently remove myself from these people ASAP.
Today I tried on the tux. The pants were too long because I'm low-waisted and the arms were too short cause I've got long arms. I guess they made the adjustments, but I didn't try it on again, so we'll see. I think the best way to go about this weekend is to speak as little as possible, to smile and nod. If something anyone does gives me a bad feeling, to admit that it's more my fault than his or hers that I feel that way. I've got to be distant, I think. But not so much that it raises suspicion and draws more attention than it deflects. I've got to chime in at the right moments. Establish enough presence to make it easier to wallflower. Above anything else, I want people at the end of this weekend to say, "boy, he was really good about everything. A real sport."
The wedding is going to be tough. The groom's family far outnumbers us four Shenoys. And once my sister says "I do," that's one less. The girl I marry better be ready to elope, because fuck this shit.
I went to the Best Buy here. It's much smaller than the one I work at and a lot neater.
