Hey!
After a while, I always started telling these people at those Californian Barbeques what they obviously really wanted to know:
At a Berkely BBQ, at a house of some obviously rich Lady who made her money with something esoteric/organic/martial, I do not know that lady as she is friends of some friends of some friends who brought me along. I am in a huge white kitchen, the BBQ goes on outside, I talk to a guy, a total stranger, I met in that kitchen.
Guy: So, this house is great house!
Steph: Oh yeah!
Guy: They say you're from Germany?!
Steph: Yup. South of Germany. Munich. Olympic Summer Games 1972?
Guy: FAR OUT!
We stand in silence for a minute or so. He keeps on grinning at me rather obnoxiously.
Guy: I wonder, have you got houses like this over there in Germany?
Steph: Oh yes. In fact, my parents live in an area where there are lots of rich people...
Guy (dropping in my word): REALLY! FAR OUT!
He still stands there grinning sheepishly staring me down. Is he gay? Does he want my picture? I don't get it. I start getting slightly uncomfotable.
He looks around him.
Guy: So you got Microwave Ovens?
I am startled. I nearly choked on my drink. I am a little bit in shock before I can say anything but then I change my tactics and tell him what he obviously wanted to hear all the time. I put my arm on his sholder, look deep into his eyes and tell him my story:
Steph: Well, you see, no, not really. I was always fascinated of all this high tech stuff you got here in the States. You are SO technically ahead of us. You know, at home, we don't even have electricity, and in the winter, it gets really really cold. And, oh yeah, we don't have bathrooms either, in fact, when I need to shit at night, I have to go outside, no matter how cold it is, where we've got a little shit hut. There's no light, and it is fucking cold, and you are all alone out there in the little hut and the wolfs are howling...
He turns totally pale now. Tries to get free of my grip. Tries to escape. That must have been a little too much for his poor soul.
And yes, now I do understand Grace Jones why when in America she kept saying "Fuck you" to everyone and everything she encountered!
And I smile at the guy, patting that poor American dude on his belly while still holding his shoulder with the other hand. (Americans are definitively touchy - but never touch things like their bellies during social conversation!).
He's got terror in his eyes now. Obviously he's not gay, ah, well, wouldn't have been my type anyway!
And I feel like an incarnation (good word in Berkely!) of Grace Jones.
Have I been to extreme just right now? Why are Americans not tought in school that there are worlds just like theirs off their coasts? What is this phenomenon of strange BBQ guests anyway?! Does it have to do with some bozon rays or so, emitting from the instable earth crust of Northern California below them?