Thank the pig

It’s another dead carcass rotating over hot coals.

It's delicious.

My first full-blown Viet wedding extends into a thank you dinner for the helpers.

I was a helper.

I helped carry the pig.

Inside the house, the men eat around one table. The ladies on the other. I ask her if this was normal. She says it’s always been that way. And I say OK.

The oldies tables. They get all the good stuff.

Out the back is the relatively young table. That’s where I am. Next to us is the really young table.

Our food is still fantastic as always. Mostly unpronounceable to me. But wonderful. Except the salad. There was a lot of that left. I'm not going to say any more than that about the salad.

After dinner the baboon runs around taking pictures of everyone and everything and periodically tells me ‘I can’t believe she’s only 16.’ Meanwhile, Lolita’s even younger sister starts jumping on his back for reasons neither understandable nor apparent to us 25-year-olds.

The baboon also learns tonight the lesson that there really isn’t much you can do when your friend’s intoxicated uncle starts hitting you over the head for reasons apparent but not understandable to us non-intoxicated-uncle-types.

Sometimes I don’t mind just being an observer.

At least it’s less painful.

Eventually we end up on the front porch drinking tea with her. Then the sisters come to join us. And so does the little brother. A little boy in oversized clothes comes in and out and makes bird-like impressions. After a short while, this act no longer amuses us and we stop paying attention. And then he doesn’t come back. Or it may have been the other way around. I’m not sure.

It’s late and we’re talking about the future. Mental fatigue often does produce these kinds of conversations. I should look into that some time.

We’re the last to leave. I get another doggy bag. So I’m happy.

The next day, I’m playing in my basketball semi-finals. I’m tired as hell but I’m giving it my all. We win. Not that I’m suggesting cause and effect. But we’re in the finals now. That’s kinda more the point of this paragraph.

And so after that dreadful end to Friday night, the rest of the weekend was a nice slow-burning contented smile on a tired face.

I like that.

I like that a lot.