Hey, get your minds out of the gutter!
Check out this hilarious story that could only happen to someone like me. Have a good chuckle at my expense. Also have a good day as well!
F. M. Laster
“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West
Tuesday, November 20
Black Barbie Eats Out
No, that eating out. I scored some free kimbap today! This required little more than my being a complete moron. Sort of the same way that I manage to score in other aspects of my life. For some bizarre reason, people seem to find my idiocy endearing! That or they actually think that I’m functionally retarded or at least on the spectrum. Either way, I get free stuff. Sweet deal!
I’d been out to eat a few times since arriving in Busan. The first time was to some spot in Haeundae for raw fish, octopus, and some other random bullshit with Moon Yeong on my very first full day in Busan. I wouldn’t dare touch any of that stuff back in Americaland, but it was actually not that awful. Note to self: Raw fish is not only suitable for other fish. The second time was with an acquaintance in TITS, where we had some incredible stuffed chicken. Note to self: go back there soon. The third time was when I went to Duckcheon for some rice-chicken-spicy-cheesy-something-or-other with Moon Yeoung and his “friend”. It was fantastic tasting and fantastically cheap. Note to self: remember what the Hell that dish was called and go have it again. Aside from these events and a wonderful meal at my apartment last Saturday, which was prepared by two of my co-teachers, I’ve shied away from venturing out to eat on my own. Somehow I managed to be brave enough to get on a plane and come all the way to Korea in the first place, yet I struggle to enter a foreign restaurant by myself.
After nearly a month of being a complete pussy, I decided to suck-it-up Sunday night and find a restaurant in my neighborhood that looked suitable. I knew from my ventures about that there were a few on my own block. I wasn’t looking for seafood, so that ruled out half of the available options. After meandering about for half an hour I finally decide on a place that is just a stone’s throw away from my apartment.
I paced outside the restaurant for about two minutes before nervously making my way up the stoop and swinging open the vast double doors to enter. I was greeted by a table of four whom all smiled at me and called Hello to me in Korean. I smiled and nodded on my way towards the back of the room, where I took a seat near a window. I fidgeted restlessly until one of the women from the table came over to bring me a menu and a bowl of peanuts. I love peanuts! Apparently, this woman has one of those sweet “jobs” that enable you to spend downtime sitting around the table boozing it up. And I thought that what I did was sweet. Sign me up!
When my server arrived at the table, I stopped fidgeting and prepared myself to communicate my message of hunger and food to this woman. Thankfully my semester of high school drama club was not lost on me and I’m still a fucking star at using my body to communicate. I was clearly an actress in a former life. The waitress initially offered me a beer or soju. For those of you not in The Know, soju is a really cheap, extremely nasty Korean alcoholic beverage that tastes like absolutely terrible vodka would if you watered it down significantly, put it in a bag, wiped your ass on the bag, let it settle for a while, and then bottled it. Needless to say, I did not want a soju.
No beer. No soju; I want food! Communication expert that I am, I express my desire for food instead of drink by rubbing my stomach then briefly pretending to eat off of an imaginary plate and saying “food!” Sometimes my brilliance is astounding, even to me. The good news is that she got the message. The bad news is that apparently I hadn’t wandered into an actual restaurant, but a bar that doesn’t serve full dinners.
The waitress, who clearly also excels in the performance arts, looked at me sympathetically, held her arms in front of her in an “X” and said: “no dinner” I quickly realize my error here, apologize by nodding and thanking her for the peanuts, and then start to gather my belongings. The woman gestures at me to indicate that she’s going to show me out. I smile, feeling like a bit of a dumbass, and accept the gesture. The next thing I know, she’s actually walking me down the street. She’s going to show me where to find food! What a doll. We stop in front of a restaurant a few stops down from her and she says to me: “kimbap?” I nod, rub my stomach and say “kimbap good!”, because I’m The Communication Expert and this is How It’s Done.
The waitress from the bar walks me into the kimbap restaurant and indicates that I should take a seat. She walks over to the women who runs the joint and speaks to them for a moment before returning to me and she indicates to me that I ought to stick around until my meal is ready and that when it is: “no money. I pay”. She then waves some won at me and points it at the ladies to indicates that she’s already paid for my meal. My mind at this point was just completely blown. So let’s recap. I wandered into this woman’s bar like a jackass, expecting to order dinner, they don’t serve dinner, and she rewards my idiocy by talking me to another restaurant and buying my meal.
Unbelievable. My faith in the kindness, rather than creepiness, of strangers, has been restored! At least for this week, at least.
The kimbap was great, by the way. It’s nothing really special; it’s quick, easy, cheap, and covers your basic food groups. Oh, and it was free, which makes it twice as good as it actually was.