Taking the Hill
July 27th, 2006.
Previously…
Being elsewhere on some other plane of existence, torn from in between reality. My dreams lately have been really vivid. The colors, the sensations, all of that, the burning pins and needles in my limbs. It’s a scary feeling, but not so much that I can’t sleep. There’s always coffee for that. It’s been everything on this wildly unpredictable ride. The whole time I’ve been in Seoul it’s like I’ve been rejuvenated, reenergized, reborn. Everything here is so new to me, even though this city is so old. Another adventure, another journey, just like the old days, when I wore the boots every day instead of once a month. If the wild dreams are a part of all of this, then I’ll always keep them.
The mysterious dealings that I’ve been involved in are all about plans. Normally I dislike the notion of being some cog in some machine. I’ve just wanted to come and go at my leisure, stopping along the way to walk along with the rest of the world. Unfortunately, my phenomenal luck is simply amazing, nothing more superlative than that. A few potential (there’s that word again) ideas are floating in my mind, and in the beginning I have to ask myself, is the life of an expatriate what I really desire?
I don’t have any anchors or responsibilities of the domestic sort. Finding a job that could end all jobs is somewhere out there, and it may lie on this distant edge of the Pacific Rim.
And now…
It was sometime early in the evening in Itaewon, as Keary and I wandered around a bit, looking for Paris and Maggie, who we planned to link up with to hang out for a bit. They weren’t too hard to find, though, and off we were into the night. Ladies’ Night got a little crazy this time of night, with cabbies and people running through the streets, dodging the street vendors and wild moped riders all at once. It oh so wonderfully congested thoroughfares.
Downtown Orlando never got like this. Well, maybe on a holiday, but it was like this every Thursday night we were out. I guess you tell the ladies that don’t have to spend a shilling on anything save cab fare (if they’re so unlucky at the end of the night), they’ll come a runnin’. Economics 101: Ladies drink free, they show up in droves. The men follow, and spend all of the big bucks trying to impress the fairer sex. Unbeatable strategy, that is. And perfect to boot.
The big plan was to link up with the others: Mario, Kim, Gina, and a few others (whose names really slipped my mind, but that’ll be explained later on) outside one of the tube stations. We all met up, and headed to The Loft, where a lot of foreigners (read: us) hung out. After twisting the arm of the bouncer, who was being a complete bastard because-wait, let me go back-he wasn’t a complete bastard. It’s just that he delayed for some time because someone in our party (once again, I forgot who) didn’t have their ID.
Tangent Alert!: ID’s are important. Much more so if you happen to be a foreigner. However, with the right pull and persuasion, you might not need one at all. Plus it helps to have a really smooth talker. So, in case you’re not as smooth as Mario was about to be, don’t leave your ID in the hotel room next to the lamp on the nightstand. Keep it in your purse, man-purse, back pocket, or jacket pocket.
Mario talked the bouncer into letting our whole party in. He told the guy that we were spending money, and we weren’t going to be shy about emptying our pockets in their fine establishment. So, that was pretty smooth. I didn’t think it would work. But it didn’t matter as we all enjoyed our table, and began to dance a whole lot. There was a lot of dancing. And lots of Jack, and whatever else the others were drinking. Mind you, I could only speak from the Jack & Coke department. Eventually, after getting an Italian guy to join up with us, we stopped spending our money in the Loft, and back into the streets we were.
The King Club was our next destination. We knew the guy at the door. Well, it was more like Keary knew the guy at the door, so we avoided paying the cover charge, and waltzed right into the place. I let the others sit themselves down at one of the tables in front of the dance floor, and I gave my greeting to David, a bartender, while the loud hip hop and booty music shook the walls. I was surprised that the building was still standing.
We all shared a few kettles of Soju (hooray!), and danced a whole lot more. We weren’t there for too long, and somehow we all got separated. I think it was Maggie’s fault, for being the last to go to the loo. Mario, Kim, and Gina went up Hooker Hill, while Keary and Paris were outside the King Club, and somehow I was talking to some random person, who in retrospect might’ve been the Italian guy. Fortunately we all had phones, and somehow coordinated ourselves. Which for being a group of slightly inebriated persons was something of a miracle.
Okay, Hooker Hill is a hill. That much can be agreed upon by reasonable people-but what goes on at the hill is something of legend mixed with tales of sad sappy Joes who would pay for sex. It was a sad irony that on the Army Base nearby that there’d be signs against prostitution, yet you’d see soldiers hanging around the brothels like those homeless people hung out in front of that sketchy 7-Eleven near the corner of OBT and Colonial Drive (I never stop there anymore-buy a pack of smokes, and I’ll bet you that some joker tries to bum one off of you before you get to your car-bad flashback!). Another thing about Hooker Hill is that it is rather steep. Probably some biblical reference or historical allegory in there, but who knows? It was just a hill.
While walking by the brothels, we saw the usual, soldiers and whoever’s traipsing around, while random prostitutes tried to lure anyone willing to pay for something they get for free like sirens. There was a gay bar, which I didn’t expect to see, and a country western bar, so there was something for everyone. I thought it was all hip hop clubs and underground house establishments. Nice to see that I was wrong.
At the top of the hill lie our destination, Polly’s Kettle, a nice place that made the long climb somewhat worth it. Good music, good crowd. We finally caught up to everyone else and no one was really lost anymore. Kim and I talked about how she was doing, and how funny it was to meet up with old friends on the other side of the world. Keary and Mario were having a ball, dancing up a storm while downing a lot more soju.
Polly’s was nice, but we ended up at the gay/bi bar, only because they played really good house music and someone (who I don’t remember) knew the bartenders there. So we got a nice hookup on drinks. I think one of the bartenders flirted with me, but I simply humored him and played along. Gina thought it was pretty funny. By this time of night, we were all content to lounge and relax, joking around about the good old days and thinking about tomorrow, what it would bring.
The skies turned a dull blue color of la madrugada-the early dawn-indicating to us that maybe it was time to head home. We all went our separate ways, save Paris and Maggie, who passed out at Keary’s flat, on his couch. What a great night! Of course, there would be the hangover, but that wouldn’t matter much. I was used to that. Mario, Gina, and Kim would be gone tomorrow, but it was wonderful catching up with them. It’s not every day that you meet good friends on the other side of the world.
Next: Recovery day at the Buddha Bar, as we get introduced to Sora, Jihe, and Rico as a simple Friday night becomes what it usually becomes-absolutely insane.