Back in 2004 I met a guy who had worked in Korea and listened attentively to his stories over a few pints. The guy seemed to be kind of a weirdo, which might have been due to him being dressed as a stripper clown with a limp. It was halloween, but still. Nonetheless, his exploits across the Pacific tickled me enough to look into the prospect of jumping on a plane and making my way over to the land of...whatever was in Korea.
Almost a full year later I was picking berries with a friend and her family at a cottage in Northern Ontario and realized that I needed out. Immediately. When did I turn into a weekend berry picker? I was turning into some sad 25 year old male version of Anne of Green Gables, or what I imagined Anne of Green Gables to be having never read the books (yes, there's some Canadians like me out there). I handed my friend the basket and answered her confused look with a simple, "No." I turned and sat in her car waiting for the ride home later that evening having only half a case of Labatt's Blue as company.
When I finally arrived home 5 hours and 16 beers later, I immediately called a company in Korea that I had been in email contact with and told them I was ready to start as soon as they could fly me over. Of course it wasn't that simple as I had to answer some key questions before they would agree. I mean, they don't just hire anyone over here!
Q1: How old are you again?
Q2: Don't you just hate Americans?
Q3: How much can you drink?
(A: Today?)
The following day I went into work and gave my 2 weeks notice, which one week later turned into "Yeaaaaaahhhh....so, I'm just not going to come in anymore. Cool?". Having vacated my apartment that I was actually just squatting in till the landlord noticed the lease had expired months earlier, a lease I personally had nothing to do with, I fled to Delaware.
Yes, Delaware. Don't judge it 'till you've been! I've been, so I feel confident in saying it's a shithole. In fairness, I only saw a very small piece of the state. A piece that included a giant football stadium, several beautiful freeways, so many liquor stores they actually built new ones into other already existing liquor stores and the AmTrack station. My former university roommate was living down there and attending the University of Penssylvania while his girlfriend was going to The University of Delaware. I can only guess what she had to promise to perform to win that fight. I took the train in to Philly every morning while humming the Fresh Prince theme. Not because I wanted to, but they actually won't let you cross the state line if you don't recite the words. And that's not even the strangest thing about Pennsylvania. Philly is good, especially if you like American history, indie bars and running while shitting your pants out of fear for your life through the streets after 10pm. I had been before and also had another friend living there from my Amsterdam days and we all got together for some good times.
Then I took the Chinatown bus up to New York City. This was my third trip to the Big Apple Store. The first was just a day trip with my ex-roomie when I visited Philly a couple of years before. The second time I went with my sister from Toronto for a long weekend. It doesn't matter who I go with or for how long, right when I get off the bus/train/plane/mule I always make a bee line straight to the Museum of Natural History. And not just for the regular old awesome stuff, either. The planetarium is where I always end up and I'll see every last show they have to offer. Thrice! If Montreal is the abusive sexy bitch in my life, the Natural History Museum in is the seductive nerdy type who slips me some acid and procedes to blow my...mind.
Another place I always end up in New York is the UN. Unfortunately, every single time I've gone to the city that Bush character has been bumbling his way through three syllable words in there so I haven't been allowed less than 100 feet away from the building. Something about my Lebanese heritage, single male travelling alone and the fire of satan pouring out of my eyes. I'll definitely be able to get in if Obama is there, being a fellow A-rab and all. Hey-YO!
From New York I took the bus up to my old stomping grounds of Montreal. Recognizing the 10 hour bus ride wasn't long and tedious enough, a couple decided to claim refugee status at the Canadian border. Due to some obscure international treaty that the three staffpersons made up on the spot, our bus couldn't leave until the issue was resolved. Apparently I was the only one who thought maybe, just maybe, a refugee claim from two adults who were in the US illegally might, just might, take a wee bit longer than their stated "hour or so". Not that I was left unentertained. It might be a chicken vs egg conundrum, but I'm not sure if jackasses are naturally attracted to camcorders, or if camcorders make decent folk jackasses. I'll leave it to the philosophers. All I know is that watching the security personnel march towards the completely oblivious guy recording everything in sight at an international border crossing was highly amusing.
Eventually I made it to Montreal where I won a giant porcelain penguin in a contest at an 80s bar where my good friend slept with the owner to rig the results after finding a bag of coke in the bathroom. But I've rambled on enough already.
The point is that I threw away what little life I had in Canada in order to come to Korea for a year. At the end of that year I went back home, ran out of money embarrassingly quickly and decided that I didn't experience enough of Korea. I hopped on a plane and started another job. I didn't have a great time and told myself and everyone within earshot that this was definitely my last year. After a month in Australia and another week in Hawaii I found myself again out of cash (funny how things work out that way). I quickly had an interview with SMOE over the phone while locked in a bathroom at the Hilton in Toronto with a bottle of Crown Royal and was again making the familiar 15 hour trip to our beloved home away from home. Once I returned in March 2008, I remember looking into a mirror and reminded myself that I was only here for a bit just to get back on my feet. I was going to quit after 6 months. Suckers!
Which brings me to today. A new contract arrives. Another year in Korea. I told them I only wanted 6 more months (I'm going back to school!!!!!...I keep telling myself), but they gave me a year long one. Lord knows you can't trust them to get everything right. I scratched out their dates and put my own. After skimming through it, I pricked my finger and signed my name on the dotted line. On every page. In triplicate.
Maybe it's the blood loss, but I'm feeling a bit whoozy.
No comments:
Post a Comment