I was standing on the balcony of Old Town drinking some makgeolli and
enjoying the sunrise. Old Town is located on Hooker Hill, so, yes, I
was enjoying the sunrise. Too much time has passed and too many
drinks have have also passed for me to remember exactly how I ended
up drinking rice wine outside of a late-morning bar in the classiest
part of Seoul – made classier by the US army base nearby – but
what I do remember is the series of events that led to me getting
roundhouse kicked in the head.
There are no public drinking laws in Korea, and bars never close, so
Sunday morning at Old Town means that a lot of people have been
drinking for 48-72 hours. I was one of those people, which is why I'm
glad I didn't get taken in to testify by the police.
So,
I'm sitting on the balcony and this nice Korean guy walks out and
starts talking to me. Then he starts exchanging some words with this
massive American soldier who was also on the balcony enjoying some
soju. I was impressed at a seeing a white guy speaking Korean, and
thought they would soon become best buddies, but the soldier started
behaving like his doppelgänger
Stone
Cold Steve Austin. I feel like in the blink of an eye, Stone Cold
just lost it and jumped at the skinny Korean guy. Stone Cold grabbed
him by the shirt, just where it meets the neck, and started almost
picking him up. “Did you call me a little dog?” he suddenly
yelled, and then bang*
everything just completely went blank after that.
Someone
would later conflictingly tell me that I was kicked in the head by a
wayward foot as the Korean guy was getting spun Fresh Prince-style,
but when I came to all I remember is 10 cops around me; they were
hauling away Stone Cold in handcuffs, and the Korean guy was nowhere
to be seen. I saw a Filipino friend of mine on the corner of the
balcony pouring coconut water from a bottle over his bloody hand;
apparently he'd smashed a car window in the commotion.
“Yep,
it is another Sunday morning on Hooker Hill,” said the friendly
Nigerian bouncer as he helped me gather my footing.
“I've
been to the police station 5 times this month, and I'll probably end
up going a few more,” he told me.
I
managed to find my makgeolli bottle and told him: “the price you
pay for cheap makgeolli is an occasional blow to the head.”
