IT'S TEA TIME!
His friends call him the “Titty Tiger.” On a normal day, a line of ten or more girls squirm impatiently waiting their turn. He flirts with the ladies, serenades him with the sweet grooves of Jay Sean, and smiles at their boyfriends standing there helplessly as he sends girls in front of them away, each with a bigger smile on their face than the last one. She belongs to him for the next ten minutes, and her boyfriend can’t do anything about it. It’s Tea Time. The Titty Tiger slowly makes his way over to her. She waits for him because he rushes for nobody. With an overwhelming amount of swagger, he commands his audience: fellas or honeys, it don’t matter.
“What size pasta would you like?” he growls at her playfully.
The name’s Tieng Tea and charming ladies is something that started way before his days at Bene’s Pasta in the UCI Student Center. Despite his years of experience, he admits that pimpin’ ain’t easy. Between the rush hours of eleven and one, the ladies demand the most, frantically asking where he’s going each time he slips into the kitchen for more pans. He flashes a smile their way, calming their nerves while making their boyfriends jealous. Don’t trip. He’ll take them out like he does the garbage after a hard day’s work, slinging the sleek black bag over his back, muscles pulsating as he shoves the bag into the tan dumpsters downstairs. He glistens with the combination of sweat and trash juice. Seas of dishes flood the kitchen during rush hour like the cash flow into Tieng’s pockets. It never stops and neither do the ladies. Just as the dishes prevent Tieng from entering the kitchen, so do the ladies when he tries to get on his bike to leave. They surround him, asking him to take the bus with them, and sometimes he does. Around 2pm they start rushing in for Round 2 of the Titty Tiger.
You can find him posted at Bene’s, sautéing and sizzling up some pastas, tossing some salads, or chillin’ in the back chopping vegetables. Onions are the worst because they’re the only thing that makes him cry. With his left hand in a white glove covered in plastic, he hacks them in half, peels off the skin, and tosses them in the shredder which does the rest. Sometimes he’s slicing and dicing back there for 2 hours at a time, filling up one or two pound bags of different vegetables.
After a hard day's work, he hitches a ride on the bus back to Arroyo Vista, hauling another trash bag, this time full of goodies instead of garbage. At the end of the day, everything that isn’t eaten gets tossed so he lugs whatever he can carry to his hall for the homies. He enters his hall with the bag slung over his back like Santa, and swings it onto one of the round tables. One at a time, he gently takes out every limp cardboard pizza box, plastic box of sushi, fruit cups sparkling where they had partially frozen over, and salads drizzled in dressing and sprinkled with bits of shrimp and chicken. Everyone digs in, grateful faces thanking the Titty Tiger for the bountiful feast, happy to see Daddy’s home.
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