SIMON: You got grounded for what might be a longer period of time than this pandemic. SIMON: You had some wild times, didn't you? And then found out that Peter was also, you know, playground reference for genitalia, as well. So I changed my name to Peter, Peter Parker. Spider-Man Tran didn't have a good ring to it. And I thought changing my name to Spider-Man probably would not be great. In fifth grade, I tried to change my name - specifically Spider-Man. But you changed it to a name that the kids could still make fun of. SIMON: In grade school, you changed your name for a day. You know, I just feel incredibly grateful. TRAN: I don't know if I was - I am spared for a higher purpose. SIMON: All these years later, do you feel that you were spared for some purpose? And the bus that we were supposed to be on was struck by mortar fire. And apparently, I - I was 1 1/2 - I was crying so much that my grandmother decided to get off the bus because she didn't want us to annoy the other passengers. And when the South Vietnamese government was collapsing, our family of 12 was waiting in line to get on a bus to take us to the airfield. TRAN: So my grandparents worked for the U.S. And I'll call this moment the bus not taken. SIMON: I'd like to go back briefly to that moment your family was leaving Saigon. His memoir 'Sigh, Gone: A Misfit's Memoir Of Great Books, Punk Rock And The Fight To Fit In - Phuc Tran, who is a teacher, writer, storyteller and a serious tattoo artist, joins us from Portland, Maine. His new memoir tells how a youngster from a refugee family growing up in an industrial Pennsylvania town, where he very often felt dismissed, mocked and bullied, found consolation in Hawthorne, Sartre and punk. Obviously, he was a little boy in 1975 when his family fled Saigon before the advance of the Viet Cong. I feel the need to begin this interview by asking you this question.

Sigh gone phuc tran