At the hotel in Denton, I was waiting for the elevator when a father of two, sitting in the lobby, yelled something in spanish at me. I turned around, puzzled. He asked if I spoke spanish.
No, I’m asian.
Oh. You look like you’re from Vera Cruz.
I’m from Taiwan.
The elevator opened.
During intermission at an LSU play, my neighbor, returning to his seat, asked me if I was Nepalese.
“I had a friend who was from Nepalese.”
Nope, I’m Taiwanese.