Wait, Where are You from Again?

A Dip in Cracker Lake: POC and their Hook-Ups with yt People


After a night of purchasing way too many overpriced drinks, I was still somehow considerate enough of my bank account to order a Lyft Line. My friends’ ride arrived before mine, so I was left on the curb of Sunset Boulevard, looking too cute for my own good. Seconds after my friends took off, a white guy stumbled towards me. For a second I was about to have an actual break down because this boy was wearing boots, dickies (cuffed), a white shirt that had some text on it that I couldn’t make out (it probably was like “Nuts for Granola” or some other BS) and a jean jacket -- my first reaction was NOOO why is an Oberlin boy haunting MY winter break?! But alas, the guy, let’s call him Tim, was not from Oberlin -- he was just a typical white dude that “isn’t like other guys.” And unfortunately, a guilty pleasure. So, I struck up a conversation with him.

Turns out we were getting in the same exact Lyft and ended up going to his house, because no way does this random guy get the honor of potentially meeting my mom and laying in my childhood bed. Anyways, as we walked into his apartment he told me how much he loves “film” (air-quotes because I said so, b*tch), and then promptly asked me if I had seen the trailer for Wes Anderson’s new movie.

His enthusiasm for Isle of Dogs was an obvious red flag but I gave him a pass. I mean what do I expect from a white guy in his 20s? Of course he loves Wes Anderson. The only thing he might love more than Wes Anderson is talking about how much he loves Wes Anderson, no matter how culturally-appropriative the movie is... He was cute, okay?! Fucking around with ignorant white art-boys is a fun pastime. Don’t judge me.

We were having a good time and then he hit me with The Question. The one that is so innocent yet so alienating. The question I get at any party or from any random dude on the street. You know the one, the one that I have gotten hundreds of times. “So… Where are you from?” I wanted to jump off the bed and run away. It might seem like a natural question for someone to ask, but I have heard it enough times to know what he really meant. I didn’t want to give in. I stubbornly said with a forced smile “I’m from here! LA.” He laughs and goes “Nooo but, like, where are you from?” He probably wanted me to say I was from “Megasaki,” the fictional city that Isle of Dogs is set in.

Moral of the story: It was a fun hookup and we both got something out of it. Tim learned that brown people can be from America and I… Well, I didn’t get much out of it but I did get a good laugh.

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