THE HORRORS OF A CHINESE BANQUET
By Janna Wong
As a 12-year-old, shy Chinese girl, there is nothing scarier than having to go to Chinatown with your family to attend a Chinese banquet filled with 200 people you don’t know or have never met but who insist you’re related. As a young girl growing up in Los Angeles with cousins and distant cousins all over the city, my family was constantly (yes, constantly) being invited to these banquets. The banquet was to celebrate someone’s birthday (a someone you don’t know and have never met) or a wedding banquet to celebrate the newlyweds (two people you don’t know and have never met) or a banquet to say goodbye to a newly perished man or woman (an uncle or aunt you don’t know and have never met).
The noise is incredible (worse than a Haunted Mansion) with 200 guests moving around the banquet room talking to cousins or aunts and uncles (none of whom you know and have never met), ignoring the poor waiters who are doing their best to deliver bowls of soup or plates of noodles without spilling (and almost always failing). You hear Chinese relatives speaking at the top of their lungs in Chinese (which you don’t know or understand) and it’s so loud in this giant room, it’s difficult to hear the cousins you do know when they stop eating and start talking.
And it’s course after course after course of food you don’t like or don’t want…but you must eat in honor of the birthday aunt, the married couple, or the deceased uncle. For goodness’ sake, by ignoring the whole chicken placed in front of you, you are pretty much keeping the newborn baby from a life of good fortune and family unity. And how dare you not eat the noodles, which means the birthday aunt will no longer have longevity in her life. If you push aside the fish (the whole fish, head and eyes included), you are denying the newlyweds a life of abundance.
This is when I leave the banquet and go outside for some fresh air and the quiet of the bustling Chinatown street (trust me, it’s quieter outside with hundreds of people shopping and cavorting about than inside the banquet room!). I sit for a while and enjoy watching the carnival man with his monkey collecting pennies from the folks who are watching their routine.
About a half-hour later, I see my father come out, looking for me. He sees I’m having more fun outside than I was having inside and he lets me stay, which I do until the banquet guests begin to float outside. Thank goodness, the banquet is over.
I’m at peace again…until next weekend when the next banquet is scheduled. Please…get me out of this horror movie!
