I live 3 stops north of the Downtown Berkeley BART Station--or as one train operator calls it "The home of the University of California AT Berkeley." On my morning commute during the school year, I invariably end up riding in a traincar with at least one or two bleary-eyed students trying to make an 8 o'clock class. What I've discovered over the last couple years is that these students I commute with are predominantly Asian males.

Berkeley has so many Asian students it could probably support its own little Chinatown. When I was there from '96 to 2000, they were the largest ethnic group on campus by a good two or three percentage points. Most of the Asian kids I knew lived as close to campus as they could and squeezed 4, 5, 6 people into a two bedroom apartment (it sounds bad, I know, but it was the Four Fucking Seasons compared to the shipping container they came over in with THE REST OF THEIR PROVINCE!).

Because Berkeley suffers from a chronic shortage of student housing both as a city and as a school, it is not uncommon to see groups of friends find houses in adjoining towns like Oakland, El Cerrito, Kensington, Emeryville, and Albany. It is these kids that commute to and from campus on BART and, like the other day, sit across from me in the morning half-asleep. They fall into one of two categories:

A) short, skiddish, pale-skinned, Chinese or Korean super dorks with backpacks that weigh at least half as much as they do strapped to their backs like baby Howler monkeys. They are computer science or engineering majors and are getting to school so goddamn early either because they want to be at the library RIGHT when it opens or they have an 8am Chinese for Chinese speakers class that they are taking because it's an easy A that will help pad their GPA when it comes time to apply to Cal Tech and MIT for grad school.

They smell funny. I can't quite put my finger on exactly HOW they smell funny, but if I had to guess I would probably say it's a combination of $2 Chinese take-out, long sedentary hours in front of the computer, a less than regular shower schedule, and an oral hygiene regimen that consists of a 4yr old toothbrush, water, and Altoids.

They usually have glasses (because technology has not advanced to the point where scientists have invented contacts or Lasek procedures that could possibly help their vision problems) and wide,thin moustaches that they never trim because razors and shaving cream would require them to spend money that they are saving up for the next Final Fantasy release.

B) I see this second category of the Asian Persuasion much more often on my morning commute. These are the non-Chinese, non-Korean, first generation, Americanized Asian kids. Filipino, Vietnamese, Laotian, Thai, Myanmarese...who the fuck knows...these are the guys who want more than anything to be NBA point guards.

They play in every intramural basketball league on campus with team names like "Rice Rockets" and "Racin' Asians." They never win the league, of course, because they're all under 5'8" and insist on dribbling like Skip-to-my-fucking-Lou before they either hoist another in a long line of ill-advised three-point shots or try to slash to the hoop where they will, invariably, call a foul when they get brushed by a defender coming out to guard their ridiculous attempt at a layup.

They all have names like Danny or Ricky or John or Henry because they are easier to say than their ACTUAL names which are more like Kwok or Hyung or Hoa or (insert sound of silverware hitting the floor). Ricky(Hoa), like his Vietnamese fishermen uncles, loves to gamble even though he's horrible at it and should be saving to pay the fines he received for illegal street racing. If he's not playing poker at the local Indian casino, he's in any number of fantasy leagues with $100 entry fees. If he's not scouring ESPN.com and the Sports Guy's columns for fantasy sleepers, he's playing Madden or Streetfighter on his PS2 until 4am with the rest of his techno music-listening, Smirnoff Ice swilling Asian buddies.

I sat across from a Ricky(Hoa) on Friday morning. I didn't think much of him at first until he nodded off to sleep and hit his head against one of the poles that attaches to the ceiling.

Ricky(Hoa) was wearing a Michael Vick jersey because Vick was on the cover of Madden 2004 and led his Madden team to the Super Bowl. He wears the Vick jersey even though he throws like a girl, runs like a special olympian, and has no idea where Atlanta or Blacksburg, Virginia are on a map. His older brothers Danny(Kwok) and Henry(silverware hitting the floor) were the guys--10 years ago--wearing the Bo Jackson jerseys because he was the best Tecmo Bowl running back for Nintendo.

Ricky has blood shot, glazed-over eyes and crusty white build-up at the corners of his mouth. I think he might have a "condition" but it's more likely that he only got 2 hours of sleep before he had to get up for the 8am O-Chem class he was forced to take because it is required for Molecular Biology majors whose parents have been pushing them from birth to become "famous-a doctuh!"

Ricky(Hoa) doesn't want to go to med school though. He wants to open a high-end car audio store with his buddies Donny(Phan), Zach(Xia), and Ronny(sounds of swords clashing). It makes sense considering the thousands of dollars they've spent to pimp out their lowered Honda CRXs...they HAVE to be experts by now!

When Ricky(Hoa) hit his head I thought he would jolt from his slumber because of the pain. Surprisingly, he just leaned against the pole with his mouth slightly open and his stale Asian nose and mouth stench wafting at regular intervals in my direction. As he rested his head against the pole, I was taken by the fact that he hadn't reacted to slamming against it.

I noticed almost immediately that it might be due to the fact that his head was shaped like a Rolo...or the inside of a plastic bucket you can buy at Walgreens to use at the beach for making sand castles. The shape was almost perfectly symmetrical--like a Mayan temple but with rounded edges. I guess maybe that's the natural shape of a head when it is breach-birthed from a sideways vagina...

The other disturbing thing about Ricky(Hoa)'s head--if there weren't enough things already--was the goatee he felt compelled to grow. I've never seen such a spotty, wire-thin, unkempt goatee in my entire life. It looked like the hodge-podgge arrangement of metal filings you get when you throw the tiny pieces of metal randomly at a high-powered magnet...like that display at the Exploratorium. I guess Ricky(Hoa) doesn't think to trim because at this point in his life he's just glad he has facial hair that's not the product of hair cut trimmings, commercial epoxy, and an industrial cooling fan.

Ricky(Hoa) was conscious enough to hear the call for the dowtown Berkeley station just minutes after he slammed his Rolo-head into the pole. He sort of rousted from his half-sleep, collected himself, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and rose to move toward the doors.

D: Hey man, nice jersey. I hope that Madden jinx has worn off

R(H): No kidding bro, he's my QB on all four of my fantasy teams.

D: Have fun in O-Chem. Hopefully all that Madden 2005 playing you did last night isn't going to take its toll

R(H): Yeah, thanks.

Ricky(Hoa), semi-confused, departed the train with a bit of a stumble and a stutter step. I watched him shuffle toward the escalator as the train pulled away from the station--assuredly on his way to get an iced espresso drink at Tully's and to pass out 15 minutes into lecture. Silly Asians.

Posted by nils at 9:08 PM

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