Circa 1987, my brother Sam is a small, scrawny freshman in high school. Asymmetrical haircut, a little eyeliner. Like I said, it's the eighties. I had spent the previous summer driving him and his friends to all-ages clubs where they wore black and danced to The Cure. He’s at a sleepover on this particular night with a bunch of his asymmetrical haircut comrades. Some girls they know tell them to meet up at a kegger an upper classman is having. They sneak out and make their way to the party. Once there, they kind of walk around, don’t see the girls, feel kind of unwanted being the youngest and most asymmetrical, then leave. As they leave, a parent who also happens to be a teacher at Sam's school is getting out his car - he's come to break up the party. From across the lawn he sees the group of boys leaving and he can’t make them out, except for Sam. Because he’s Asian. The teacher calls my parents to tell them my brother has been spotted at a party where there is an abundance of alcohol. Mom demands the address. She goes with Dad to the party. Mom at a kegger!! You don’t get it, she’s not a MILF, she’s not even five feet tall. Her hair is permed because Koreans were really in to perms for a while. I can only guess she was clutching her purse to her side because that’s how she walks. She goes rambling through the party asking every kid she passes if their parents know what they’re doing. She calls out my brother’s name in case anyone was wondering who she was looking for. She passes a large pyramid of emptied beer cans and yells “Beer! No good!” then swipes her hand across the bottom like a ninja before heading out the door, a path of topped cans in her wake.