Family visits: Flies, Sighs, and Eva Mendez' Eyes

It's always great when family is over and we talk about all the funny things we've done over the years, especially as kids. Growing up I had an uncanny resemblance to the character, Piggy, from the movie, Lord of the Flies (circa 1990). We saw it on its release date when I was ten years old. Let's just say that I looked so much like Piggy that people were pointing, gawking, and whispering to one another--"that's him"--as I left the theater. Thinking it was funny, I popped the collar on my brown leather jacket and played the role of a celebrity as my family looked on (and egged me on). We relished every second of the misguided attention, barely able to hold our gut-busting laughs and smiles till we got to the car.

So as I share with you some of the following stories, it might be helpful to imagine a young boy looking very much like Piggy, walking around, getting in adventures, and ... being the fool my family loves (and groomed).

"Make a run for the border"
I'm 11 years old and visiting my Nana and my Godparents in Hemet. We're at Taco Bell grubbing on tacos. My Nina heads to the restroom and tells me to hurry up and meet her outside in a few minutes. I quickly devour my last two tacos, leave the table, and walk toward the soda machine for a refill before I head out.

Next thing she knows, I'm walking up to the car with a big grin, all happy-go-lucky like I've got a gift for her. "Nina, I got something for you. Yoooou forgoooot somethiiiing." I hold up a purse. She looks at me and screams, "What are you doing!? My purse is right here!" There's a split second when I asked myself the stupidest question--"well then who's purse is this?" Uh-oh. Then fear.

She grabbed me by the hand with her forceful stubby little fingers and we rushed back inside, heading directly to our booth. The lady hadn't even returned to the table. We put the purse back and hastily left the place ... Laughing hysterically, we're red as tomatoes. Sigh ...

"What I miss?"
It's 1988, I'm eight years old, and the movie is Rain Man. I really wanted to play a round of video games and wouldn't stop asking my mother for quarters. She finally gives in, purses her lips and says, "And that's it! Don't ask me again!" Victory! I slip out of the theater and head for Pole Position--"prepare to qualify." I went through the dollar in less than ten minutes, and didn't want to go back for the life of me.


I finally head back, but it's dark and I can't see much. Squinting, I look up the row of seats and see my empty aisle seat, my mother next to it, and her boyfriend. I sit down, take a humongous drink of our tasty beverage, and lean towards my mother to ask her, "What I miss?"

And there beside me, in the dark of the theater is this strange woman. It wasn't my seat. It wasn't my soda. It wasn't even my mom! I put the drink down in the cup holder where I found it and say, "Oh I'm sorry" to the woman, who is holding her beau's arm like its a lifesaver, and then slipped out. Seems there were two showings of Rain Man that day and I had returned to the wrong theater. "Aye Chingao!"

"Deja Vu"
So I'm 27 years old and it's sometime in October (2007). I enter the theater after getting a drink from the concession stand. The movie, We Own the Night, had just started, but the scene is poorly lit so I can barely see a few feet in front of me. My mother has this habit of sitting near the handicapped seating (she likes to put her feet up on the railing). So I look towards the railing and see this women there with her feet up, chomping away on popcorn, her purse to her side.

Now, the movie starts with Eva Mendez and Joaquin Phoenix in this pretty racy scene. They're getting down! And I think Eva Mendez is fricken GORGEOUS so I'm not really paying attention. I sit down next to the lady and I figure I'll throw out an off-the-wall comment. I get a kick out of making my mom laugh.

So I turn to the lady with her feet on the railing--which I could have swore was my mother--and tell her in this forcibly-perverted way, "Man, I'm missing the best part!." I laugh in a low tone, expecting my mother to laugh with me. Nothing. Not a peep.

Yea ... I immediately knew it wasn't her. Silence is Golden. And I didn't dare look in her direction! Once the screen lit up a bit, I slowly craned my head in an unnatural arc, trying to be all subtle and non-threatening, easing my eyes a little to the right. Confirmed. By then, I just wanted to get out of there. I stood up slowly, without looking in her direction, scanned the darkened theater, and moved to where my real mom was. I told her what happened. And we busted up for a good five minutes into the movie. (DOH!)