By the Lights, Part 4: The Pirouette Betwixt Strangers & the Strange
August 12th, 2006.
Previously…
Hanging out with Carron, Phil, and Bora was an eye-opening experience. I got an insight on how everything works in Seoul. Well, their approach to the dating experience. Mind you, Phil needed a lot of help, but he barely listened to myself and Carron. All a game, really. The whole thing was like the song.
Speaking of the Scot, Carron, we set up a “date” of sorts. To imply it was a “date” in any capacity would mean that I was back on the market. It really wasn’t what it appeared to be at all, though, and we could hardly expect what would happen next.
And now…
A rather warm night in Itaewon, which I realized much more as I stepped out of the cab; too warm for words. I was a good while early, and I gave Carron a call, as she was still out at a barbeque with Bora and Phil. No answer. No worries. I strolled over to the King Club.
On the way, Phil called me up, saying that they were still there, stuck for a while longer. David handed me a proper Jack & Coke, as we joked about the guys and gals dancing up a storm rather badly. Badly was being generous. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and there was finally good news. Carron was on her way, delayed because her ride completely welshed on her. Even overseas, things never changed.
We met up and headed off to My Place, a bar on the rooftop overlooking the city. It was a really picturesque view, a partly cloudy night, the jazz music playing in the background, and the quiet, dimly lit with miniature spotlights. The point was, I really liked it.
Since I didn’t know much about Carron in the first place, we sat and talked for a long while, sipping on Hoegaarden and smoking cigs. She was an art teacher based out of London, and met Bora at the Chicago Art Institute. That’s how she got to Seoul. I told her about how I got to where I did, well, not everything, but enough. It seemed that we were both of the bohemian lot, stepping in between the mainstream and flying out to the far reaches of otherworldly thought.
She was still sort of lit from being stuck at the barbeque too long. There was a near infinite keg there, and it seemed that she did everything but try a keg stand. Got to love Americans. So yes, she was still sort of lit. The best way to get sober? Karaoke!!! It was her idea.
Of course, we had to find a karaoke bar. We wandered around aimlessly looking for one. While walking past the whorehouse, with its crowd of prostitutes dressed in garishly and unnecessarily cheap sexy gear straight off of the infamous stripper rack at 5-7-9, we asked a bartender where the nearest karaoke bar was. The older woman took us on a walk through the winding streets and nooks and crannies of the neighborhood.
We saw something very strange on our little promenade. I swear I saw an older man who was a spitting image of, dare I say, Rasputin! Yes, that self same Rasputin, with long hair, moustache and beard, even dressed in black. Suffice to say, I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Carron saw him as well. Then, he vanished into the crowd just as quickly. A rather surreal experience.
The nice lady led us to a small place, in the basement of some random building, with a bright neon karaoke sign. We had finally arrived. Fun Fact: Karaoke bars in Southeast Asia are definitely different from the ones in the States. They’re small rooms with a pair of big screen TVs, a karaoke machine (complete with a remote control and 2 microphones), and comfortable seats along the walls, with a large table in the middle. Apparently businessmen have meetings there and have other entertainment, mostly on the sordid side of things. So yes, there are a lot of things that can happen during a normal session. Use your imagination. $20 for an hour in the room, complete with a private door.
Carron and I sung pretty much all that we could find, including ABBA, Frank Sinatra, the Doors, and Bruce Springsteen. We had a fantastic time, really. When we were all done, we found our way back to Keary’s flat and talked about how Phil totally screwed up with Bora, and how we were going to get them talking again. She was sure that they would be okay, but somehow I doubted that. After that, we passed out on the couch, watching the BBC no less. She was going to feel that hangover in the morning.
August 13th, 2006. I walked Carron off to the cabbies, and spent the rest of the day in recovery mode. Keary was back from work, and was more than willing to party it up, especially after he woke up. I got a text from Emily, who wanted to hang out, so that was the plan.
We agreed to meet up in Itaewon at Old Town Seoul. We also ran into Bora and Carron while crossing the street, while they were shopping. Small world, though they couldn’t join us. At Old Town, we hung out at the bar and traded stories about our times in Seoul. Keary kept on telling really weird stories about our childhood, but Emily didn’t seem fazed at all, as she had her own odd tales.
The sun was further than set when we found ourselves at the King Club, where it was already bustling with activity. David was his usual insane self, and soon he and Keary conspired to produce another bottle of Bailey’s. Shots for everyone!
As the night went on, group of extraordinarily tall men walked into the club, one of which I thought I recognized. Of course, the only way to find out was to ask. I remembered that Team USA had played a few tune up games in Seoul in preparation for the FIBA World Championship Basketball Tournament. It was Brad Miller of the Sacramento Kings, who was one of their centers, slumming it with his entourage. I introduced myself and wished him and the team good luck in the tourney. We all had a round, and we went about our business. He was a pretty cool guy, to say the least.
Emily and I took to the dance floor, and noticed that Keary had made some new friends, a trio of Germans. He introduced us, but I couldn’t remember the man and his two female companion’s names, especially after the multiple shots. What I did remember was that one of them kept trying to get Emily and I to join them later on. Yes, they were total swingers. We simply and politely declined, and went about our business. Odd.
Later on, Rico popped up and we shared a few of the remaining shots with him. It was getting really late for Emily (who had to work), so I hailed her a cab and off we were. Keary noticed that the sun was peaking over the horizon, so we made our way home. I don’t really know how we got back to the flat, but since we made it, it really didn’t matter.
A crazy series of nights, and I felt totally burned out. As I fell into the couch, I wondered how bad my legs, back, and brain would feel later on. Occupational hazard, especially in the life I led. And not bad at all, for being on what seemed to be an extended vacation.
Next: More of Bora, Carron, and Phil, as we end up on a rather trip-inducing journey through a strange underground subculture of Seoul that we had no idea thrived as much as it does. What is it? Platform shoes, that’s the only clue.