Bar Stories

* Friday night, Joe and I swung by Rocky Sullivan's, a pub near my apt on 28th (or 29th) and Lex. We got a couple of drinks and then were offered a round of JD shots by MJ the hilarious smart ass of a bartender with a shaved head.

"Where are you from?" He asked.

Joe said he was Korean and I told him I was Chinese.

"So you are real Asians then, unlike that girl over there," MJ pointed to an Asian girl who was sitting diagonally across from us around the bar.

"I'm Philipino! I'm a Pacific Islander!" she chirped.

MJ laughed and said, "These guys here are real Asians. You are a fake Asian. You are a FAsian!"

We all laughed like crazy and then downed our shots.

After I told Sachin this story while we were on the train to Coney Island to check out Nathan's Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest (which is another story in itself), I said to him, "You are a FAsian too because you are on the subcontinent. Wait, you are the Subs!"

* A few weeks ago, while I was having lunch and checking out a World Cup game at a sports bar across the street from work, I saw a Mexican busboy pointing at someone at the other end of the bar and yelling to the waitress, "That Chinese guy down there is done with his lunch."

"We don't talk like that here," came the stern rebuke from the waitress.

I looked at both of them and quipped, "Which Chinese guy?"