I entered the ampitheater with awe. It all seemed so western. The walls were a series of faux civil-war western buildings. The seating consisted of highly veneered logs and the stage seemed to have stolen all the color and pastels that never existed in the western films I had seen. My grandparents had touted this show since the moment we arrived in the panhandle of Texas as the 'dog-gone sweetest little theater piece they had ever saw.'
            I was young, but I was at the age where I was soaking up everything around me and evaluating it at face value. The play had been wildly successful for quite some time. My grandparents had borne witness to its splendor on several occasions before taking me, my brother and my parents to enjoy it. Light western music played in the background as folk filed in. The mood was palpably jovial. The ampitheater seems to me now, to have been located in the heart of every Texan. Every man there wore a flannel rancher shirt, an over-sized ostentatious cattle hat and a six gun strapped to their waist. I was quiet mostly. I broke my silence only to inquire after my Grandfather, on several occasions, why all these men needed guns. I wasn’t afraid. Much like the highly stylized western buildings surrounding me, these gun-touting Texans seemed fake and harmless. Nothing like the hard-drinking mean-spirited gunmen I had become acquainted with through film and TV.
            Everyone got settled in. Everyone in the crowd seemed to be in the same situation as my family. Part of each group was a traveler from some inconsequential portion of the U.S. and the other part was a relative of theirs that had brought them to this place in order to show them the grandeur of Texas. My whole family was particularly quiet. We were Californians out of San Diego. The whole ambiance didn’t make any particular sense to us and my mother had left behind her devotional pride for Texas when she had left it over 20 years earlier.
            The lights dimmed and a soft applause grew from those that knew what they were about to see. Five young people who had recently left their teen years behind pranced out onto the stage in the gaudiest western outfits imaginable. The light grins of the audience became character defining smiles. The applause erupted. The thespians took place at stage center and waved emphatically at us all. There was to be no fourth wall in this place. These were to be the good will ambassadors of Texas. The ones that would enlighten us all about the grand history of Texas. Through song and dance they would win our hearts and strengthen the resolve of the others.
            But first, a little audience participation to get us down-right comfortable.
            The thespians knew that strange travelers from afar frequented their show and they began calling out the states around the Texas border.
            “How many Okies we got here in the house tonight?”
            A startlingly loud cheer burst forth toward the stage. Many stood. The Texans looked around and applauded, grinning wider in honor of their brethren neighbors. I clapped. It seemed proper. The gorgeous 20 something buxom belle that chortled out the question made a flattering quip about Okies and they chuckled in appreciation. I chuckled too. I didn't understand the remark, it could have been in Latin for all the sense it made, but the way that girl twisted her skirt and beamed towards us made my young heart flutter. Oklahoma was a non-descript state to me. They were no different than Texans in my mind. I assumed that’s why they got along so well.
            “We got any New Yarkers with us?”
            The emphasis on the mispronunciation of Yorkers was appalling. The Yarkers appreciated it and a small contingent of gruff hoorahs answered the young man’s call. The Texans laughed. Someone on the stage made a joke about pizza. Everyone laughed some more.
            They went through three more states in this fashion. Then the youngest of the males called out “Anybody out there from California?” There was something goading in the nature of his phraseology and the tone of his voice. Something I had heard often. Actually, I had heard it every time a Texan had feigned to utter the word California. It was a declaration of dominance. I recognized it from a much younger age. It stemmed from a severe Texan superiority complex. From their emphatic knowledge that they were the heart of America. That all other Americans should aspire to be them. But they wouldn’t be so bold as to outright deny the Americanness of any other American... Unless they were a Californian.
            Time slowed as I heard the young thespian finish his sentence. I looked to my brother, who was already looking to me. He nodded to me. There was no sense in cowing to the Texan terror. I looked above him towards my parents and grandparents. Due to the curvature of the log bench, I could see all of their expressions. Fear encompassed all of them. Fear that my brother and I would put the spotlight on all of us in front of these gun-wielding Texans who had already been worked into a stupor of gaiety. I saw all the audience members beyond them. They were glowing with anticipation. Their faces searching the crowd for the Californians. My brother looked back at me. I breathed in sharply and was ready to cheer my little Californian heart out when the beautiful belle who had captured my heart leaned forward.
            “I wouldn’t admit it either!” She declared to the young man as she cupped his bicep.
            The crowd erupted in raucous laughter. As if every tiny grin before had been leading up to this moment. Never before had I heard and never again will I hear such insistently uproarious laughter. My cheer for my homestead sunk into theirs.
            That was their finale. Unable to speak over the burgeoning guffaws, they waved themselves off the stage. My parents and grandparents did not cheer or laugh. They looked much the same as before, only it was a placid thankfulness upon their countenance now. My brother looked to the ground in shame and I grit my teeth at the stage in disgust. I was young. Very young. Too young to stand up to their tyranny. Whatever the following play consisted of, it didn’t register with me. I only saw a pipsqueak little Texan in a teal and blue cowboy shirt parading around with his gorgeous floozy. I wished for them to remain in Texas for their entire lives. I wished for their ignorance only to grow. I clapped only to conceal that I was a Californian.