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Seattle's Ragin' Asians

Vodka shots, dancing at Venom, and 3 a.m. noodles in the ID: Welcome to Seattle’s “neon tetra fish” nightlife scene.

She walks out hurriedly and meets Fabelinia outside. It's almost 2 a.m., and they head toward the parking lot with purpose. "Dear God, please don't let me have a ticket," Mom prays aloud. When the moment of truth arrives, Mom lets out a sigh of relief and Fabelinia cheers. "I told you!" he says triumphantly.

He gets in the car and starts the ignition. Like the rest of the droves of Asians filtering out of clubs at last call, he's headed to the International District. Restaurants like Purple Dot, Honey Court, Jade Garden, and Sea Garden are all crammed with Asians, many of them possessing that telling red-faced glow as they kneel over family-sized portions of greasy Chinese fare to soak up the booze in their bodies.

Venom's female patrons must contend with "Asiaphile" white guys.
Photos by Garrett Mukai
Venom's female patrons must contend with "Asiaphile" white guys.
Somealear Mom says, "You can't be in my family and not be hot."
Somealear Mom says, "You can't be in my family and not be hot."

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There's no settling for a cream-cheese hot dog tonight. The streets of the International District are already packed with cars when Fabelinia rolls onto Maynard Avenue South, where Purple Dot is located. The neighborhood is livelier at 2 a.m. than it is at dinnertime.

Mom is walking toward her destination with Fabelinia when she sees a car she recognizes. "Phonan!" she yells, running into the street toward what she thinks is her cousin's car. It's not. But it turns out that she knows these guys too, and invites them to Purple Dot.

The staff at Purple Dot is prepared for the chaos. Owner Sindy Chan usually requires the restaurant to be staffed with one manager and four to five employees. But on Friday and Saturday nights, she doubles those numbers.

"Once the clubs stop serving liquor, they all come here," Chan says. "And they bring the club atmosphere with them. It's packed with loud Asians in their 20s and 30s who aren't ready to stop having fun. It's actually kind of crazy. We get more busy at 2 a.m. than we do during dim sum."

Purple Dot looks like a cross between Space Mountain and a casino buffet. The walls are bright purple and yellow, the tables iridescent silver, and there are massive mounds of food everywhere. It's packed with Asians still dressed in their Forever 21 dresses and Club Monaco shirts. Some of them look drained from the night's debauchery and slump over their food. But most of the tables are as loud as hell, and the patrons burst out laughing over and over again with their mouths full of noodles.

Mom requests a table for four, and for the umpteenth time declares her love of baked spaghetti. "It's so bomb—like regular spaghetti but way sweeter," she says. She doesn't bother looking at the menu, instead sending text messages until the guys she saw earlier, Kik and Wayne, walk in.

The two spent their night partying at Ibiza. Wayne is reserved, but Kik, who works as a club promoter and part-time model, is flirtatious and talkative. "Are your sisters hot, too?" he asks Mom with a wide smile when she refers to one of her siblings. She snorts, unimpressed by his attempt at flattery.

"You can't be in my family and not be hot," she replies.

The exchange is interrupted when a harried waitress arrives. Even with eight other servers on duty, she's got her hands full with several tables of drunk and hungry Asians. She scribbles on her notepad as Mom orders for everyone. "Pork fried rice, house special chow mein, honey-walnut prawns, honey-garlic spareribs, and baked spaghetti," she says in one breath.

Within 10 minutes, the dishes start arriving one by one. It's way too much food for four people, even if three of them are grown men. There are ridiculous amounts of greasy noodles, fried prawns coated in sticky mayonnaise sauce, and of course Mom's spaghetti casserole dish. Fabelinia helps himself to some fried rice, then passes the dish to his right. The four set to work assembling their plates of food, pausing every once in a while to reach over and scoop another shrimp or piece of chicken onto one another's plates. Conversation dies once they start to eat.

In an hour's time, they manage to put an impressive dent in the spread. It's now 3:20 a.m., and the servers have started to stow away dishes and rearrange chairs. Purple Dot closes in 10 minutes. Several patrons are still inside, and the waitress begins dropping off bills at the tables—a not-so-subtle hint that they need to leave.

The total for the table comes out to around $50. Kik and Wayne throw down some cash, and Fabelinia charges the rest on his card. Mom asks for a to-go box and scoops the remains of their munchies into it. She hands the leftovers to Kik to take home. Then she makes a face.

"I feel sick," she announces.

At the door, Mom and Fabelinia part ways with Kik and Wayne and head to their respective cars. Around them, countless people are doing the same. Once again, Maynard Avenue South fills with droves of flush-faced Asians, headed home with car keys dangling from one hand and a carton of chow mein in the other.

ehobart@seattleweekly.com

[Editor's Note: When this story was first posted, our Web site's automatic hyperlinking technology created a hotlink on the name of Quang Nguyen, who is quoted in the third paragraph of this story, and linked to a previous SW story involving Quang Nguyen, Executive Director of the Washington Vietnamese American Chamber of Commerce. The two individuals are not the same and we sincerely apologize for any misimpression created.]

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