There are certainly no parties like Filipino Parties because Filipino Parties have karaoke, San Miguel, communal beer glasses, tons of barbecue, and pork belly.
Okay, so there are probably parties out there like Filipino parties, but do those use Magic Sing Karaoke?
Thought not.
Such was the case in a little house in New York, where my aunt and uncle dragged me one cool afternoon. And I don't know about you, but when I hear the words "pork belly" and "barbecue" from any Filipino's lips, I immediately know that I have to go to there*.
I also fear for my heart health in later years because of this.
After much consumption of said pork belly deliciousness, it got to that point in the night, where we're all seated at a long table, away from the kids, laughing at lewd jokes and being really loud. We munched on cornick and chips, ate cut off bits of pork belly from a large tureen in the center, and drank beer, even if we didn't want to.
We shared on glass among every four of us, meaning that only one person drank at a time, and we'd hit it upside down in a tray of water to wipe off the rim. It is doubtful on how hygienic this is. Scratch that. It's blatantly unhygienic. But it encouraged a communal spirit, egged you on to drink faster to pass it on quickly, and made sure you always had a cold drink.
It was sitting around this setting that my aunt turned to me, her eyes wide and teasing, as she pointed out a conversation down the long table. One of her friends was relating how as a caretaker, her charge wondered at what her parents were doing one night because she heard certain noises. In case we all questioned what sort of noises, she acted it out to our loud guffaws and claps.
Things are funny when we clap.
And my aunt turned to me, her face all innocence, as she asked if I heard anything like that before, and I realized that I've been duped.
Since moving into the apartment, my aunt gave me warning about the "fights" from our next door neighbor. She said that you can hear the woman screaming sometimes, and I nodded along because I figured that it must be awkward to live in an apartment and that this was my life now.
Only, it didn't sound like angry screaming.
And it didn't sound like fights.
My aunt would bring it up every once and while, asking, and I would tell her that I didn't know, because I had my headphones in, which wasn't technically untrue because once I heard it, I'd put my headphones in. She'd tell me that those noises happened because they were newly weds, and I would agree, actually forcing myself to think that maybe they were arguing because my aunt thought so.
But those noises don't lie. Much like hips, I guess.
Oh. Har-har, that's a lewd reference in this case.
I figured my aunt and uncle were too polite to know what was going on, or, rather, they were too polite to bridge this sort of talk with their niece. I just plugged my headphones in or cranked up the volume on the TV when it would happen, which was often. I left it at that and tried not to bring it up.
Until that evening at the barbecue, where my aunt looked on for my response and the whole table leaned in for my response and I thought wildly about my response.
I turned red.
The entire table burst into laughter, because these people knew and some even lived there and really knew, and I turned red further as I tried to explain why I never said anything before. And everyone just laughed and laughed, until I joined in and felt my stomach cramp and my eyes tear up, because it was pretty ridiculous.
Besides the fact that I was with the adults as the kids hung out upstairs, playing games on their iPads, I didn't realize that I was actually an adult. I mean, it was pretty ridiculous to think that I couldn't talk about this with my aunt and uncle. And the fact that I tried to force myself to their way of thinking was pretty stupid too.
So, I've reached that point of adulthood where I'm at the adult table, I guess. It just took two randy neighbors for me to realize that I was one.
After much consumption of said pork belly deliciousness, it got to that point in the night, where we're all seated at a long table, away from the kids, laughing at lewd jokes and being really loud. We munched on cornick and chips, ate cut off bits of pork belly from a large tureen in the center, and drank beer, even if we didn't want to.
We shared on glass among every four of us, meaning that only one person drank at a time, and we'd hit it upside down in a tray of water to wipe off the rim. It is doubtful on how hygienic this is. Scratch that. It's blatantly unhygienic. But it encouraged a communal spirit, egged you on to drink faster to pass it on quickly, and made sure you always had a cold drink.
It was sitting around this setting that my aunt turned to me, her eyes wide and teasing, as she pointed out a conversation down the long table. One of her friends was relating how as a caretaker, her charge wondered at what her parents were doing one night because she heard certain noises. In case we all questioned what sort of noises, she acted it out to our loud guffaws and claps.
Things are funny when we clap.
And my aunt turned to me, her face all innocence, as she asked if I heard anything like that before, and I realized that I've been duped.
Since moving into the apartment, my aunt gave me warning about the "fights" from our next door neighbor. She said that you can hear the woman screaming sometimes, and I nodded along because I figured that it must be awkward to live in an apartment and that this was my life now.
Only, it didn't sound like angry screaming.
And it didn't sound like fights.
My aunt would bring it up every once and while, asking, and I would tell her that I didn't know, because I had my headphones in, which wasn't technically untrue because once I heard it, I'd put my headphones in. She'd tell me that those noises happened because they were newly weds, and I would agree, actually forcing myself to think that maybe they were arguing because my aunt thought so.
But those noises don't lie. Much like hips, I guess.
Oh. Har-har, that's a lewd reference in this case.
I figured my aunt and uncle were too polite to know what was going on, or, rather, they were too polite to bridge this sort of talk with their niece. I just plugged my headphones in or cranked up the volume on the TV when it would happen, which was often. I left it at that and tried not to bring it up.
Until that evening at the barbecue, where my aunt looked on for my response and the whole table leaned in for my response and I thought wildly about my response.
I turned red.
The entire table burst into laughter, because these people knew and some even lived there and really knew, and I turned red further as I tried to explain why I never said anything before. And everyone just laughed and laughed, until I joined in and felt my stomach cramp and my eyes tear up, because it was pretty ridiculous.
Besides the fact that I was with the adults as the kids hung out upstairs, playing games on their iPads, I didn't realize that I was actually an adult. I mean, it was pretty ridiculous to think that I couldn't talk about this with my aunt and uncle. And the fact that I tried to force myself to their way of thinking was pretty stupid too.
So, I've reached that point of adulthood where I'm at the adult table, I guess. It just took two randy neighbors for me to realize that I was one.
While this picture shows eavesdropping, I want it stated that I don't actively try to hear these noises.
*I must attribute you, Liz Lemon. My English 1101 won't have otherwise.
Feeling: Allergic. Listening to: I think a spoon being smashed onto something metal? I'm in a coffee house somewhere.