CHAPTER 10- What car show?

    In contrast of Chapter 7, all of the things in this chapter's REAL... well, almost...
I'll start and end those parts with * to notify you that it's fake.

    January 7... Ovan's family were going to the San Jose Public Library as usual, but something
strange was happening there at the convention center (we park at the parking lot for the
convention center, which you go through to get to the library). A line of cars were parked
in the hall over a carpet that they normally cross (red dotted line) to the library.

    Ovan thought that it was a really small car show, because the only cars he saw was the cars on 1st
level. After they were done with the library business, they decided to check out what the heck is
going on. When he came back from the library, he saw more cars through the glass on the 2nd floor.
Then Ovan and his family took the elevator to the 2nd floor.

    "So that's where the music comes from," he thought as the elevator door opens. And so, they do what
Asian people do best, wander around looking mildly confused at a certain object and frowning at it.
While they were observing a BMW, two official asshole undercover car salesmen walks forth, one broke
the tradition ritual by saying, "I could give it to you for $(a reasonable price for rich bastards)!" while the
other just grins. At that moment, 2 observation popped out of Ovan's head:

1. This might be the "American" ritual of car shows, and could be follow with a shrewd conversation
unknown to Ovan. Ovan thinks, "we then say something smart, then both side laughs formally, exchange
cards, more talking about the car... then either you were guided somewhere to sign something or you
say 'I'll call you at a better time (asshole)'."

2. This might also be the "American" ritual of mocking the Chinese folks like us being at places like this. To
falsely indicate that there could be a car show ritual that if they're smart, they should follow, then secretly
smirk at them for being Chinese.

    The Chan family then gave a fake knowing smirk to the assholes, then they quickly zigzags their way off
further down the wing hoping that those salesmen will loose their scent. Ovan's sister, Vivian, spotted an
entrance to some more cars and assholes and old farts and music.

    "Hey, let's go in," said Vivian, while approaching slowly backwards to the entrance.

    "What if they ask for tickets?" asked Ovan, who saw a "buy tickets here" stand when he was wandering
on level 1 waiting for his dad putting the books in the car in the parking lot.

    "Don't worry, they won't notice," responded Vivian, she's already made it inside.

    Ovan thought with sarcasm, "Yea, won't notice that we're TOO Chinese for stuff like these.", he shrugged,
then followed his "already inside" family. He took a deep breath, observing around, to his surprise, there are
quite a selection of well-fed Chinese there... speaking of well-fed, was that food he smelled?

    "There's food!" announced Ovan, calmly.

    "Where?" asked Vivian and Ovan's mother.

    Ovan took another sniff and pointed, "Over there," he stated. Pretended to be like a canine or some type of
sniffy animal, he guided his mother and sister to a smallcompare to the whole convention area—region, there
it was, a rather short line waiting for a chef, or not a chef but an immigrant wearing a chef hat, cutting up a leg of

    An array of black plastic plates and forks, plain and poppy seed hamburger buns, heated tray of left-over beef
lines the table in the order I wrote. Ovan and his mother and sister waited in line along with other formally dressed
people. There was only one other person that's informally dressed, a guy with the "Zero
ó" or "Zero *" (in case you
don't have Wingding2) shirt on. The "chef" carefully placed a slice of fatty beef on Ovan's plate. After the nosh,
(I love that word) it's time to walk around and pretend to look at cars, at least that's what Ovan was doing.

    Few minutes after, Ovan and his family are already waiting in line for some other stand that offers coffee. After Ovan
received his vanilla cappuccino, a trumpet imitating a horse neighing was heard *which made Ovan unintentionally spilled
some of his coffee on the uncontaminated carpet. He also scorched his hand. He then quickly rubbed the stain into
the carpet and stepped on it before anyone could notice, they wouldn't notice anyway since that they were attracted to
the noise.*

    Something that's expected at a car show happened, propaganda! A host, a camera person, a few cars covered,
a model, some old fart in a suit, and... the trumpet guy. And nonetheless, a crowd surrounding. A stable thought rushed
up in Ovan's head: Crappy Local channel show sponsored by local car dealers.

    "And now, the god father of cars..." said the host. The trumpet blasted a short tune. The crowd applauded.
Ovan tried to but didn't want his cup of coffee to spill... *again*.

    "Blah blah bloop blee blee biot blah..." uttered the old fart, probably something like, "It's a pleasure to be here
*Bob*." And then "Bob", so-called, will say something like, "It's an honor to have you here, let's not delay
(though they have lots of time), let's introduce our first car..."


    A few times the host asked the trumpet guy to imitate the neighing sound of a horse on his trumpet. Which was good
for the first time, but then it gets annoying afterwards. But Ovan did not protest and headed for the next table that serves
drumsticks and stir-fried beef and vegetables. The coffee tasted bitter, Ovan wonder if the coffee guy forgot his French
Vanilla syrup. He then snatched a small bag of M&Ms from one of the non-car related presentation stands (which beats
the heck out of those crappy lollipops at the "anti-drug CASA" stand.

    Ovan tore the packet open—putting the cup of coffee down first of course—and dropped 2 M&Ms into the cup of
coffee... instant mocha! After finishing his second serving of rice and stir-fried "goods", he chuckled menacingly at the
"Head injury rehab" stand. (from thinking about a man going to rehab for hitting his head stepping out of a car)

    At this point, the host had uncovered a new car and forcing by-standers to answer this challenging question: "What
do you think of this car, ma'am?". Ovan then thought up this spiffy dialogue:

    "What do you think of this car, sir?"

    "It have wheels... good wheels."

    "Yes it does, what do you think of the car in general."

    "It sucks! But it sure have some nice wheels. Great for a swing."

    "What do you want to see in the future models? How would you want us to remodel it?" the host asked between
clenched teeth.

    "I expect a built-in swing set!"

    The host then says to the cameraman, "We'll edit that part out!". And the cameraman nodded.

    By this time, the host got a spokeswoman to talk about the "sports tour". She was going 160 mph and the only
thing Ovan could jot down was "surround sound", which most cars have.

    Ovan's down to the pasta and salad bar further down the rectangular convention room. Studying the pastas like
how others studied the Mazdas. At the same time, 2 cars went off because of the extremely curious hands-on
people. And a mysterious band called ( the bass on the mic's so high, the closest thing Ovan could make out was)
"Johnny and the Drug Wheels", played classics nonstop like: "Sock it to me", and "Ob-la-de ob-la-da".

    Moments after the band played their last song, *"Justify My Love"*, and the drum player pounded on his
Sonor Bass drum, Ovan and his family members were stuffed and the clean-up crew were cleaning up the
salsa and chips table. (Ovan never reached that far) It's time to say goodbye to the Fujitsu and NEC flat screen
monitors and Ami Designs, Milpitas, (408-942-0852) gift boxes weighing down helium balloons.

    On the ride home, when Ovan was popping in his remaining M&Ms and discovered a deformed
diamond shaped one, his family talked about how come they could get in free. Here are the results:

PS: Adults: $8. 6-12 years old: $6. Under 6: Priceless. Being Chinese: Also priceless.
There's something money can't buy, like being a 6 year old or just being Chinese.
For everything else, there's the trumpet guy.

PSS: We saved $32 on dinner!