Random Korean Shit (Seoul Patches? No, that sucks))

originally posted on 11/23/06

First off, props to Wiley. I never thought I'd start a blog like that. I know I've talked a lot of shit over the years about his refusal to leave Lawrence under any circumstances short of being kidnapped under a ruse promising North Lawrence titty bars, but he's actually traveled a lot this year, and he's coming to hang out in Korea in a few months. Does this mean an end to talking shit? Of course not, I'll just have to come up with something new to make fun of Wiley for. Should take upwards of 5 seconds.

I was on the Seoul subway the other night, on my way to going out in Itaewon, when some Blonde Redhead song came on the pod, you know, the one with the weird, dreamlike background music under the strange yet soothing high pitched voice. Okay, that's all their songs. But anyway, I sat down in one of the seats in the end of the car, which is reserved for elderly, disabled, and pregnant passengers. Keep in mind, the train car had no standing passengers, as it was not very full, but was just full enough that there was nowhere to sit in the normal seats without being squeezed between two Koreans on seats that are not really designed for the American ass.

Two middle-aged Korean guys in suits were sitting across from me, also in the "reserved" seats, and one of them pointed at the sign while staring at me. I shrugged, and gave a glance that tried to say, "I will get up should this seat be needed by somebody in the elderly, disabled, or pregnant condition, but there are no standees on this train right now, plus, it does not look as if you yourself fall under the umbrella of the particular maladies that these seats are designed for, yet you sit in one, so fuck off." It's quite difficult to convey that with a look and a shrug, though I presume it would have been much more difficult to verbalize this, given the language barrier. Had this been the El, the finger would have done the job well, but since this is a culture I do not fully understand, I did not want to resort to these measures.

After a stop passed, the suited man once again gestured toward the sign, so at this point, as a foreigner here, I felt I had no choice but to oblige. Who knows, maybe this seemingly able-bodied businessman had some sort of hidden disability, maybe a colostomy bag tucked in his pant leg or something. And maybe it is taboo to ever sit in a "handicapped" seat on a Korean subway under any circumstance, like an American handicapped parking space, rather than like a handicapped bathroom stall, particularly the ones in a large airplane that are anybody's first choice.

I walked through the train car, and again, there was really nowhere to sit, so I planned to stand for the rest of the trip, which was, of course, not a big deal. I stood near the other side of the train car, where there was another series of handicapped seats, with a pregnant woman sitting on one side and an old (Korean, of course) man sitting on the other. The old man saw me standing, and gestured for me to sit on his handicapped bench, which I did. It was only another minute or so until my stop arrived, and when it did, I walked to the door. The old man looked up at me. I nodded at him, and he nodded as well. I walked off the train, and the Blonde Redhead song ended. All of this happened throughout the one song, and not a single word by any party was spoken throughout.

Speaking of subways, so I've had two pretty scary dreams over the course of the last two nights. Last night, I dreamt I was in some sort of precarious subway situation, where I had for some reason left the train and was on the tracks, and had to make some sort of flying leap across the third rail, which was of course shooting sparks, before the oncoming train hit me. Two nights ago, I dreamt that the school I work for was going to make me and the other teachers start selling Sprint home long distance to the student's parents, and that we would have a quota, and it would be the focus of what we were doing from now on – long distance sales first, teaching second. No question which one scared me more.

Last funny note, and I love this sort of language stuff, cognates I guess. Cell phones, as I mentioned before, are called handa pones here. I bought an international phone card last week, and the guy at the convenience store I bought it from said, "yes, with this, you can pone the U.S."

Final side note, as I type this, right now, I have the pod on shuffle, so of course, randomly, out of 3500 whatever songs, it's playing the same Blonde Redhead song. probably the second time I've heard it, including during my earlier story, in, I don't know, 6 months. Said it before and I'll say it again -god lives in the iPod.