how many toys they had, I couldn’t cross over. I’d much rather eat Chinese food and split the one good dinosaur with my brother. Macaroni is to Chinamen as water is to gremlins, teeth are to blow jobs, and Asian is to American. It just didn’t fit.
* Xiao Wen was my original Chinese name. When I started getting in trouble around third grade, my parents went to a fortuneteller, who named me Xiao Tsen, and when it got really bad in middle school, I was reborn for the third time as Xiao Ming. But to this day, Phil calls me by my first name: Xiao Wen.
† Five words: RANDALL HILL SHOOT ’EM UP.
‡ R.I.P. ODB.
§ That’s how you spell “Jordan” in Chinglish. His nickname was Kong Zhong Fei Ren = Mid-Air Flying Man.
‖ When I was fifteen, we were hanging out at this McDonald’s parking lot when these two guys in a Camaro rolled through. Both were twenty-three years old but liked the girls we were with so they started a fight with my boy, Lil’ Cra. Cra got the first punch: cracked it on the guy’s head and broke his hand. I had seen it happen from inside McDonald’s so I ran out with a tee-ball bat and handled that. Readers, pay attention, if you tryin’ to fuck people up, leave the baseball bat, bring the tee-ball stick, you’ll always beat them to the kneecaps.
a What up, Woody?
Annie Hall
… you already know B.
3.
ROSETTA STONE
I always liked sneakers. You had to look fresh playing ball, but I didn’t have to have the illest pair. That is, until I saw what Chaz Crowfoot had on his feet that day.… I still remember creeping through the basketball court, and BAM! There they were and I could never go back to life without the knowledge that they existed: fire-red Jordan Vs with the lace locks. It was the first time I remember ever wanting to jack someone. The shits were so fresh, it was like having cars on your feet. That silver 3M tongue was dancing, light just bouncing off all angles, calling my name with the Jumpman in the middle. I had to have them.
Of course, my parents never bought us anything, but I thought maybe, just maybe, this one time, things would change. I went home that day on a mission. When I walked into the house, my mother was waiting and I seized the moment.
“Mom, I never ever ask for shoes,” I started, figuring I should remind her of my silent sacrifices to date. “But I gotta get the Jordan Vs.”
“Eh! I like Michael Qiao dan, how much are they?”
“I don’t know, but everyone says they have them at Belz Outlet Mall.”
“OK, we go after dinner.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, after dinner!”
I thought to myself, I can’t believe this, but I’ll take it! The truth is, I probably should have started the “Please Buy Me Jordan Vs” tour about two months earlier, but I blocked out those thoughts and tried to run the two-minute drill. Whatever mind games I could play, I tried. I opened doors for everyone, I took out the garbage, I let Emery out of the car first. I swore to the god I didn’t believe in that if I got those damn shoes I would do this forever. *
We pulled up to City Sports at the Belz Outlet Mall and didn’t even have to look for them: there they were, visible from twenty feet away, in the right front window on a five-foot pedestal with two platforms. The white ones on top, black ones on bottom. 3M tongue
dancin’
. Even Emery and Evan were in awe. They were the hardest sneakers I’d ever seen. Hands down, all time, O.G. Jordan V Fire Reds no doubt, no question, illest pair of shoes ever made. The reason you love sneakers changes as you grow. Some people follow players and cop the signature shoe. In high school, it’s a style thing. And when you get your first job, you buy every Jordan in sight just to make up for lost time or cheap parents. But when you’re a ten-year-old, there’s one reason you buy J’s: to jump higher.
I hated Michael Jordan with a passion. I was a Barkley and Ewing and later on Chris Webber or AI fan, all day. But Jordan
* Xiao Wen was my original Chinese name. When I started getting in trouble around third grade, my parents went to a fortuneteller, who named me Xiao Tsen, and when it got really bad in middle school, I was reborn for the third time as Xiao Ming. But to this day, Phil calls me by my first name: Xiao Wen.
† Five words: RANDALL HILL SHOOT ’EM UP.
‡ R.I.P. ODB.
§ That’s how you spell “Jordan” in Chinglish. His nickname was Kong Zhong Fei Ren = Mid-Air Flying Man.
‖ When I was fifteen, we were hanging out at this McDonald’s parking lot when these two guys in a Camaro rolled through. Both were twenty-three years old but liked the girls we were with so they started a fight with my boy, Lil’ Cra. Cra got the first punch: cracked it on the guy’s head and broke his hand. I had seen it happen from inside McDonald’s so I ran out with a tee-ball bat and handled that. Readers, pay attention, if you tryin’ to fuck people up, leave the baseball bat, bring the tee-ball stick, you’ll always beat them to the kneecaps.
a What up, Woody?
Annie Hall
… you already know B.
3.
ROSETTA STONE
I always liked sneakers. You had to look fresh playing ball, but I didn’t have to have the illest pair. That is, until I saw what Chaz Crowfoot had on his feet that day.… I still remember creeping through the basketball court, and BAM! There they were and I could never go back to life without the knowledge that they existed: fire-red Jordan Vs with the lace locks. It was the first time I remember ever wanting to jack someone. The shits were so fresh, it was like having cars on your feet. That silver 3M tongue was dancing, light just bouncing off all angles, calling my name with the Jumpman in the middle. I had to have them.
Of course, my parents never bought us anything, but I thought maybe, just maybe, this one time, things would change. I went home that day on a mission. When I walked into the house, my mother was waiting and I seized the moment.
“Mom, I never ever ask for shoes,” I started, figuring I should remind her of my silent sacrifices to date. “But I gotta get the Jordan Vs.”
“Eh! I like Michael Qiao dan, how much are they?”
“I don’t know, but everyone says they have them at Belz Outlet Mall.”
“OK, we go after dinner.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, after dinner!”
I thought to myself, I can’t believe this, but I’ll take it! The truth is, I probably should have started the “Please Buy Me Jordan Vs” tour about two months earlier, but I blocked out those thoughts and tried to run the two-minute drill. Whatever mind games I could play, I tried. I opened doors for everyone, I took out the garbage, I let Emery out of the car first. I swore to the god I didn’t believe in that if I got those damn shoes I would do this forever. *
We pulled up to City Sports at the Belz Outlet Mall and didn’t even have to look for them: there they were, visible from twenty feet away, in the right front window on a five-foot pedestal with two platforms. The white ones on top, black ones on bottom. 3M tongue
dancin’
. Even Emery and Evan were in awe. They were the hardest sneakers I’d ever seen. Hands down, all time, O.G. Jordan V Fire Reds no doubt, no question, illest pair of shoes ever made. The reason you love sneakers changes as you grow. Some people follow players and cop the signature shoe. In high school, it’s a style thing. And when you get your first job, you buy every Jordan in sight just to make up for lost time or cheap parents. But when you’re a ten-year-old, there’s one reason you buy J’s: to jump higher.
I hated Michael Jordan with a passion. I was a Barkley and Ewing and later on Chris Webber or AI fan, all day. But Jordan
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