Thursday, June 11, 2009

Why I'm Proud of My Nationality




Whether your parents are from Argentina, Puerto Rico, U.S.A, or whichever country your parents could have conceived you in. It made you who you are today. It might make some uncomfortable to think about your parents doing it, but I'm happy to say that my parents only did it to make babies, since they where Catholic. And no other time did they have sex (That's what I tell myself anyway). I live in the United States of America, and by birth I am an American citizen. I'd like to shed some light on my humble accomplishments, as the journey was difficult and long.

My father was born in the Guanajuato area of MX. And moved to Mexicali shortly after his father was designated land by the Mexican government.

My mother was born in Mazatlan Mexico. Her mother was from the Veracruz area of MX, and her father a northern Italian man who stowed away in a ship during WWII only to  land in the gulf of MX. Though not from the same states of Mexico my parents both achieved to be born in the Mexican nation, much the same way that American citizens achieve proud American citizenry by simply being born within U.S. borders.

Both my mother and father moved to the U.S.A. in search of something different. They were not impoverished, but lived average lives for their time, which meant hard work at a young age. While kids in the U.S. were watching Howdy Doody my father was helping to build a road.
My parents met in Los Angeles CA, where they conceived yours trulies. But, it was not so easy for me...

See... I was torn in two literally! Half of me was in my mothers egg, and the other half was in one of my fathers spermatozoa. I had (YUCK!) to travel through my father and into my mothers cervix, while competing with all these other little Mexican slowpokes. Obviously I was smarter and faster than them. Why? probably because my parents were doing it in California, and people in California have a lot of organic food. The others must have not gotten all the nutrients I did. But, I will admit. That I did trip one of the little twerps on my way to my moms fallopian tube, and I lied to a group of others by telling them they were going the wrong way. Haha! They believed me. You would think that we were all brothers since we came from the same twin planet (Yuck.), But FAWK THAT! It's a doggy dog world up in here! So...

Upon the home stretch it was down to me and a few other little punks. This is when I went full throttle and left them in the dust! And as I tried to enter my mothers egg. I could feel one tugging on my tail. Once I got inside I told him I was sorry, and if I could let him in I would but it doesn't work that way. Better luck next time amigo!. I gave him the finger and said, "I'm on my way to being an American!" Since my parents had just conceived me on American soil.

During my mothers pregnancy, which was going great , since my mother was a non-smoker, non drinker, and she fed me a variety of healthy Mexican food like Tacos, Cilantro, Frijoles, Agua de Jamaica, all that stuff that's synonymous with the USA apparently. I could also hear them playing various styles of Mexican music and the occasional sound of a helicopter.

8 months into my mothers pregnancy is when it became a "close call" as to weather or not I would be an American citizen. My grandmother in Mexico became ill, and my mother suddenly had to take a trip to see her. So I kicked and punched for my mom not to go, to no avail! My mom took the trip anyway and I couldn't stop her. Kicking and punching all the way there. Needless to say I became frustrated. Somehow I knew Morse code, it must have been from a past life. So while in Mexico I punched. U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ !, U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ !, Over, and over again FOR WEEKS!

We were still in Mexico one week before I was scheduled to be born, when suddenly I heard my mom burst into song about forbidden lovers. It sounded like a waltz to me, but none the less it had the same pulse as the Morse code for USA, ● ● ▬, ● ● ●, ● ▬. ● ● ▬, ● ● ●, ● ▬. She must have heard me! Because Within three days we were on a bus on our way back to the United States. While waiting to switch buses near the Mexico/U.S. border town of Tijuana MX. I heard my mother comment to my father on the phone how I must have not liked Mexico because I was punching the whole time. "I like Mexico just fine mom, but I didn't go through all this chit to be born there."


And that is when things took a turn for the worst, at the Tijuana Bus Station. My mother started thinking that she was going into labor, and they called an "Ambulancia" to take her to the hospital. The hospital was less than a mile away from the border. And I knew this because I could clearly hear the guys in the Mexican ambulance listening to an American radio station. "Oh. No's" I thought to myself. If I get born in Mexico I'm gonna have to be proud of Zapata, Aztecs & Mayans, and the chicks won't find me exotic here! I'm gonna have to wave the Mexican flag high and proud. And though I like the colors much better... "Wait! What Am I thinking!?" I snapped out of my rationalizing and returned to pounding on my mothers belly.
U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ !, U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ !, Over, and over again until I suddenly became very drowsy. Apparently my mother had been given a sedative and I fell asleep stammering
U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ ..... U● ● ▬ S● ● ● A● ▬ .

When I came to, I was just born. Some guy was slapping me and I cried like a baby! Not because he was slapping me but because his name tag read "Dr. Rodriguez." and his nurse "R.N. Alvarez". How sad. I was studying American history for 8 months straight. 8 months of pride, of righteous wars for freedom and democracy I will no longer be a part of. I'm gonna have to criticize the U.S. like every other country does, and brush up on my Mexican history, and find Mexican things to be proud of. Cause nobody will love me if I'm a non proud, self hating Mexican. Ugh! And the Morse code for Mexico is SO LONG!
M▬ ▬ E● X▬ ● ● ▬ I ● ● C ▬ ● ▬ ● O ▬ ▬ ▬ I cried myself to sleep.

No matter what country, It felt good to be in my mothers arms. Some time passed, and doctors and nurses handled me gently. Perhaps it wont be so bad here. Perhaps I wont be seen as an underclass if I could be a doctor in Mexico like Dr. Rodriguez. While I fell in and out of sleep I dreamed that one day I would successfully attain American citizenship and enlighten the world by becoming a producer of national hit shows like 24, Ultimate Fighting Championship, The Simpson's, or COPS.

The day came to finally leave the hospital. As we drove away and unto the streets my eyes were drawn to all the colorful Mexican store signs which read "Carniseria La Mapola", and "Mercado Juarez", and I found it surprising how many gang members and Low-Riders were on the streets of Mexico. I was like WTF? And this is when the most amazing thing happened!

My father suddenly stopped the car because a Hispanic looking man was trying to carjack the person in front of us. There was yelling and loud sounds of gunfire but for some reason it didn't phase me. Out of the blue police cars came to a screeching halt, and I heard the sound of a helicopter overhead. The police jumped out of their cars and proceeded to severely beat the wounded assailant.

I was about to fall into a deep depression because of how violent the police seemed to be here in Mexico, but instead I chit my pants! Not because I was a baby, but because to my bewildered surprise the police cars read LAPD! And I realized I was born in the United States of America after all! I WAS AN AMERICAN! Suddenly, the police officers violent behavior towards the man seemed justified. Also, suddenly, I started to feel sentimental about the 4th of July, and as the cops held the carjacker on the ground to cuff him I tried to yell "Wetback!" but, it came out "Goo! Goo!".

Much later in life my mom revealed to me the full story of what happened. It turns out that the hospital in Tijuana was at maximum capacity, and that my mother was not due until the next day. My father came to pick her up in Tijuana and drove her back to Los Angeles, which is were I was born.

(So as you can see. This is why I am proud of my accomplishment of being born in this nation. You might think that being born in a third world country where people are starving to death with no vaccines is luck of the draw. But as I've illustrated, from spermatozoa, to fetus, to infant. I was in complete control of the situation.)

Goliath Flores


2 comments:

  1. Anonymous1:30 AM

    haha great story! and it got better as it went, too. thanks :)

    Chenoa

    ReplyDelete
  2. Chamaco muy bien !! En mi prisa de comentar me salte la historia.... So what about your Guanajuato genes, aren't they pulling hard enough yet?

    ReplyDelete