Oh, the things I saw last night. There must have been a full moon, or something in the water. The Koreans were crazy last night.
Something I think I know about Korea, but can’t actually know, is this: Though Korea has a homicide rate less than half that of the United States, they tolerate far more domestic violence and aggressive behavior. I’ve seen more fights in Korea than I ever saw in the United States. And they just fucking drink way too damn much.
As you can see, last night was a bad Korea night for me.
It started innocently enough. Molly and I went to the movies. We saw Toy Story 3. Pixar is, of course, the animation studio responsible for it, as well as Up, Finding Nemo, Wall-E, Ratatouille, The Incredibles, etc. I love Pixar so much. Their stories are excellent and the animation is always breath-taking. Even when their movies don’t match my expectations, and to be fair they’ve done a lot to make my expectations pretty high, still that movie is better than most. The shorts before the movies are also always excellent. Basically what I’m saying is I’d be happy to take a minimum wage job sweeping their holy floors. (PS: Dreamworks Animation, you haven’t got shit on Pixar.)
I love you. Show me where the broom is and I'll get started.
Afterwards we played a few games of pool. I haven’t played in years. We were appropriately terrible, but it was a lot of fun. I’m itching to get Molly out of the house to play again tonight.
Molly, bless her heart, had to work Saturday morning, but such inconveniences as teaching children don’t stop us. It was one in the morning and she suggested we get a drink. We were in Sungshin, and you can find about five bars on each side of one short street. We went to a basement bar. Their were albums on the shelves and a fancy speaker system. There was also a group of Koreans and Korean Americans who were quite drunk. One dude had his head on the table, asleep, and there were plenty of beer bottles on the table. We ordered two Long Island Iced Teas, a cocktail that the menu listed as “for men.”
Molly was sitting with her back to the table, but I wasn’t so I was getting an eye full of the table’s antics. One girl offered to take her drunker friend home, but it seemed like that should have happened a while ago. The bartenders were taking what seemed an inordinate amount of time to make our drinks as we were the only ordering customers in the bar. Then two girls nearly toppled over Molly because they were in a wobbly, inebriated embrace. The girls apologized and Molly moved chairs so she wasn’t in the crossfire. One of the guys from the table leaned over to us and said, “Can you do me a favor?” I said, “Maybe not.” He laughed, which seemed like a good sign, and then his friend who was asleep somehow launched himself from the otherside of the room and fell into the bar, knocked over a couple of stools and a lamp, then hit the floor. A ragged, drunk mess. It looked like he was in a rollicking bar fight with himself. This table was too much trouble, so we grabbed our bags and ran out of there. It didn’t look the bartenders even finished making our drinks anyway.
The next bar we went to was on the second floor one street over. There weren’t any customers there, and all of the staff was young and dressed all in black. We ordered two Long Island Iced Teas again and this time we stayed long enough to get them. We were sitting in a booth by a bank of windows. Sitting near a window is like a lava lamp for me. I get lost in people watching. Below us two men and a woman were having a heated argument. It was great fun to watch. Molly and I couldn’t tell if the woman, wearing a beige one piece, was the nut ball, or if it was the guys. She kept stepping between them, and touching and pulling them away from each other affectionately. She probably fancied herself in her favorite drama. She seemed to be more panicked than what the situation called for. We sat up in our seats and pressed ourselves against the window. I was chanting fight fight fight, urging them from above to throw a punch. Entertain us! The girl went back inside, and the guys ran off to the corner, which we could barely see, holding hands. I could just see one throw a punch, some headlocks, a serious head butt that sent the other one falling backward. That was a bit more entertainment that I wanted. The man in the blue button down shirt left first and walked back toward the bar and gave us a perfect view as the other guy ran up behind him and launched himself at his back, knocked him on the ground, kicked him in the stomach and back, squatted over him and punched him in the face one time, two times, so many times, and then kicked him in the head, slammed his foot into his face over and over and over again. I became shrill, probably yelled some incoherent things. I ran downstairs because even though I don’t know what on Earth I could have, God damn if I’m going to watch somebody beat the shit out of another person and not, I don’t know, yell at him not to kill him. Neither Molly and I speak Korean. We couldn’t call the cops. Being downstairs I saw one man’s foot stomp another man’s head over and over, still. How many head injuries does it take to get to the center of a coffin?
Downstairs there was a small crowd of passersby and wait staff watching. The girl was involved somehow too, crying and pleading with people near her to stop them. YOU stop them, honey. I couldn’t pity her. She seemed to enjoy it. Maybe I’m being unfair. They’re all crazy, though. Crazy crazy crazy. I was shaking. No one else ever seems to get as upset as I do.
Some of the staff from our bar ran down and broke it up. The guys in the brawl kept trying to fight. I left because I didn’t want to get injured, and what could I do, anyway?
I’ve never seen violence like that. I’ve never seen someone smash another person’s head to the ground repeatedly. I was appalled and not eager to go back downstairs. That was not the kind of entertainment I wanted. Answered prayers cause more tears than unanswered ones. Not that I cried, but it was shocking, so shocking. Molly and I didn’t talk much after that, and I realized a few minutes later that the bar was playing Christmas music in August. No police ever came to the street. Maybe they were never called. I don’t understand these people sometimes.
When I got home it was three in the morning. I got ready for bed and I heard voices shouting outside. Of course! Why should the insanity stop? Let’s just all get hammered and let out all of our pent up aggression! The voices got louder, and I realized they were in my building, in the hallway above me. The argument increased and they were both shouting at the top of their lungs. It echoed through the whole building. I went halfway up the stairs in my bathrobe and yelled at them in English, because nothing helps aggression than more aggression. ”Shut the fuck up, it’s fucking three in the morning. SHUT UP!” I yelled “Be quiet!” in Korean. They didn’t. I stomped back to my room and angrily slammed my metal door. There were a few seconds of quite after that. The yelling ended and the woman, who I saw coming down the stairs, was an older woman. She left the building.
Fucking crazy bastards. What the hell is wrong with people? Stop being crazy people, stop it now. Before you make me as crazy as you.
