Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon

I’m not sure exactly how or when, but one day I woke up to find I had reached my 20s and all of a sudden, I was supposed to be flushing out toxins with juice cleanses, finding my alleged “inner zen” in yoga classes, and sipping latte art I really couldn’t afford. Not too long after, some former queen bee Instagrammed a selfie while hiking, and suddenly everyone had to wear Lululemon all the time, all over the place. Since I couldn’t afford the latte art to begin with though, I just bought whatever ass-kissing replica of a capri pant Target produced.

To be honest however, I’ve been enjoying the hiking part of being in one’s twenties. It was refreshing to disconnect from my phone and appreciate the nature I normally couldn’t find living in suburbia. Before I knew it, my mother was hopping on the hiking bandwagon as well and transformed into a trail enthusiast, inviting girlfriends to visit us in Las Vegas so she could introduce them to the free and sober side of Sin City no tourist would have ever expected to find.

Our inaugural guest was one of my mother’s best friends of almost 30 years, and one of the more athletically-inclined. We decided to take a field trip about an hour away to Valley of Fire one morning, and wow. Toto, we certainly weren’t in Kansas anymore. And so the three of us roamed the state park, the only Asians not having to stop every 17 steps to document our adventures with an obnoxious iPad.

Fuego!

Fuego!

While making our way through the trails, my mother commented,

“Imagine how fun it would be to rock climb across these canyons!”

And in true best friend fashion, her gal pal responded without even missing a beat,

“The only thing better than rock climbing across these canyons is if you were to Wuxia kung fu across.”

Ain't nothin' like a kung fu thang

Kung fu – improving hikes one trail at a time

“His Computer Password Is ‘Password.'”

My colleagues had a few things to say when I finally upgraded my phone to the new iPhone 6+.

“How does it feel not to be using a rock anymore?”
“Oh, you can actually make calls now!”
“Are you enjoying your new tablet?”

Okay, okay. So I’d been toting an iPhone 4 around for a few years, though in my defense, it was a 4S, I might add. But the upgrade was not as glamorous or remotely sexy as I’d been envisioning for the last year or so. In fact, I found it tedious, exasperating, and a downright pain in the ass. My contacts were in disarray, my text messages were no more, and my apps were memoryless of their passwords. Watching videos on the bigger screen was nice, though.

Turns out, I wasn’t the only one suffering from New-iPhoneism. My dad called me in a minor depression the week after my mom upgraded her cell phone as well, describing a tragic family dinner where everyone was engrossed in their own phones, unable to partake in true human interaction. This was apparently the time my mother chose to reintegrate her apps back onto her new iPhone 6+.

Ain't nothin' but an iPhone thang

Ain’t nothin’ but an iPhone thang

My mom: “I can’t seem to figure out the password for this app.”
My dad: “Do you have a different password for each app?”
My mom: “Yes. But I’ve already tried everything. ‘ilovedennis [my brother],’ ‘ilovejamie [my sister],’ ‘ilovesandy [me].”
My dad: “Are those all of the choices?”
My mom: “Oh! Wait, maybe ‘ilovesoba [our dog]!’ Oh. That’s not it.”
My dad: “Don’t you think you’re missing one more? What about me, maybe it’s ‘ilovekris’!”
My mom: “Oh, it is definitely not ‘ilovekris.’ I’m sure.”

Tough love.