Gotta Catch 'em All

It is one of the greatest stories ever told. A Chinese girl, no taller than five feet, waits patiently stage left. Suddenly, a flurry of activity seizes the audience's attention. Flood water has invaded Beta Canyon!!!! As a gang of blue hoodie-wearing Parkview students floods onstage, a gathering of superheroes prepares to save the day. First Spiderman gives it a try, but fails. Then Batman attempts to stop the ravenous deluge, again to no avail. Alas, it is our heroine's turn. Adorned with a yellow pumpkin of a costume, Christine "Li'l Chrissy" Yuan creeps toward the hoodie-clad cult. She struggles up the stairs, as the legs of her costume were originally intended for the Halloween use of an 8-year-old Little Timmy. With assistance, she finally reaches the stage and lets out a deafening cry: "Piiiiiikaaaachuuuuuuuu!"

I can say without hesitation that the hardest I have ever laughed in my entire life was while watching this sequence of events unfold. I was at the Georgia Beta Convention senior year of high school, and my fellow Betas and I had prepared a skit to go along with Adam Caruthers' less-than-well-thought-out, hydroelectrically-themed bid for state Beta secretary. While brainstorming for the two-minute skit that would be centered around, of all things, A Dam, a magical image popped into my mind: Li'l Chrissy as Pikachu. She had so many Pokemonish qualities. It would be perfect! I am still shocked that this comic dream became a reality, but before my very eyes, just before A-Dam was to put an end to the great flood, Pikachu came to life on the stage of the Hyatt Regency Ballroom.

So what does this story have to do with Chile? Very little. But it does provide some important background to a fun fact about the country in which I currently reside. You see, I was sitting in my Spanish class today at the ECELA language school in Santiago, when my profesora Monica started talking about Pokemon. I mean, it made perfect sense to bring up the topic (After all, I was sitting across the table from a Japanese student called Toko). But Monica wasn't challenging Toko to a Pokeman card duel. She was instead describing a segment of the Chilean population. Yes, there is a group of people here that Chilenos call "Pokemones." Stunned by this revelation, I beamed with wonder at the prospect that there might be hundreds of Chrizzlian Pikachus roaming the streets of Greater Santiago in their Ginger Zachman's best. Not only would this spectacle present a level of hilarity tantamount to the great Beta incident, but it would also surely protect Santiago from the annual flooding of the mighty Rio Mapocho.

Alas, this was not the case. The Chilean Pokemones are simply rebellious youths with spiky hair and gothic clothing. Possessing a less than stellar record on political correctness, the Chileans apparently find these fashions reminiscent of a stereotypical modern Japan.

That is all.