Awkward Questions of My Childhood and a Creepy Street Performer...

Remember back in the day when we used A/S/L to say hello on the internet. (I had a whole paragraph about the phenomena of AOL chat rooms, but you were there, so you remember. Unless this is my parents reading this and then I hope to God you weren’t there and you have no idea what I’m writing about) I’ll more on…

Fun fact! When Alexander Graham Bell wanted the standard greeting for the telephone to be Ahoy, but then Edison changed it to Hello. Boring Edison!

2Birds1Blog wrote the other day that once we went to college the standard greeting became Name/Hometown/Major. This was so true. Every class, every party, every social outing started with the exact same introductions. Every now and then you would professor who thought it would be cute to have you tell everyone your brand of Shampoo or something interesting about you, but all those questions were just fluff. Everyone judged and was judged by how they answered Name/Hometown/Major. Carlos/El Paso/Latin American Studies… yeah could you be anymore stereotypical? (Haha Latin American Studies, there was a major even more pathetic than mine.)

This brings up a very awkward situation for me. For my entire life, ever since I can remember, I’ve had a very hard time answering the question, “Where are you from?” I was a military brat and not really from anywhere, but if you say you’re not from anywhere people give you this look like, “Ah, were you an orphan with no family and no love in your childhood…?” What? No. I have two wonderful parents, who are still married, and even if I was an orphan don’t they live in orphanages in like cities, so wouldn’t they be from that city? My parents are both from Texas. My dad was born and raised in Dallas and the surrounding suburbs. My mom moved around a lot growing up, but she always claimed Texas as home, so I considered her a Texan as well.

For as long as I can remember I told everyone that I was from Texas. Had I ever actually lived there, no. I told my friends and random people on the street, but I always thought I was sort of lying because really I lived in England or Rhode Island. I can remember being in Edinburgh, Scotland for Thanksgiving one of the years we lived in England the second time. I was in 2nd or 3rd grade and we stopped to watch a street performer. He pulled me out of the crowd to be a part of his performance. I already felt awkward because I didn’t like strangers growing up and what did I know? This guy could have been a freak or a child molester, but because he was on the street doing magic or something my parents just let him take me by the hand and lead me away.

Creepy Street Performer: “What is your name little girl?”

Me: (trying not to look him in the eye) “Lemon Lady.”

Creepy Street Performer: “Wow, Lemon Lady what a beautiful name!”

Me: “Thank you. Pleasedontstabme.”

Creepy Street Performer: “What was that kiddo? I didn’t hear.”

Me: “Nothing…”

Creepy Street Performer: “Well Lemon Lady, where are you from”

Now I don’t know if this is a standard question of creepy street performers or if he just asked me because I clearly didn’t have a Scottish or British or Irish or Welsh accent, but I remember first being weirded out by his nosiness. Who was this guy and why did he need to know where I lived? More importantly now he and all the people who had gathered around were staring at me because I was taking a long time to answer what should have been a simple question. Where was I from? That morning I had woken up in a hotel with an awesome indoor swimming pool. I could be from that hotel, but I couldn’t remember the name. My house with all my things and my dog was in England, but I don’t claim to be British (even though I was born there). My parents were from Texas, but that was just a place where we went on vacation every now and then. Which one do I pick? What do I say? The hotel has an indoor pool, but my house in England has my Barbie collection. But if I tell this guy where I live in England he might come and break in and murder my whole family, and Texas is where Grandma and Grandpa got me those way cool red cowboy boots…

Me: “I’m from Texas.”

Yeah, I went with the cool boots and hopefully a far away enough place where Creepy here could never find me.

Creepy Street Performer: “Wow Lemon Lady!!! You came all the way from Texas to see my act? That’s amazing!”

Me: “Um, yeah?”