Cheering Section

It wasn't about showing our love and support, it was about winning. My Aunt Jennifer, receiving her master's in education, asked us to scream for her when she walked down the stage of her graduation ceremony. So we screamed.

The other graduates had embarrassing cheering sections full of old geezers, who should have been called "Old Wheezers" for their small lung capacities. If you weren't Old Wheezers, you were shy groups of 3 or 4, brave enough to only offer a barely audible applause.

But, we, the Nguyen family, we screamed. We wanted to be the rowdiest, loudest family in the entire gym.

And what a formidable bunch we were. My mom and Aunt Kim bicker so much and so loudly that they had no trouble finding the lungs to yell "GO JENNIFER!". Aunt Kristin, AKA The Shrieker, screams so loud she makes a Metallica concert sound like a pin drop. And then there's Uncle Don, a former beer-guzzling crazy meathead back in the early 90s, who had an even greater stake in this because he is Aunt Jennifer's husband. Throw in Lynn, Uncle Buu, and Uncle Carlos the Big Black Whistler, and we had the loudest cheering section around.

And let's not forget about me. I'm like a young Adam Sandler meets an old Al Pacino meets an orgasming Catholic girl. I, AM, LOUD. Beating on my chest. Stomping the bench. Cupping two hands around my mouth so I could turn myself into a human megaphone.

So what if everyone in the gym turned around and looked at us, shaking their heads? Nguyens have no shame. So what if we topped 150 decibels? So what if minutes later, we were outdone by another family who cheated by honking their hidden airhorn? So what?

The giant-sized TV screen that would show the reactions of all the graduates zoomed onto Aunt Jennifer's face as she stepped off the stage, and she was smiling.