Seoul never sleeps. It is still the Summer of 2000, but we are waiting to depart back home to the United States. I called my mom and she said a few of my friends wanted to meet me at our house after I arrived if that was ok. They were hesitant, the grape vine of information must have let them know something possibly traumatic had happened to their friend while in Korea. Suspicions should not be hindered from the fantastic, I was obviously a North Korean spy now.
We are sitting in my dining room. My family and a few of my friends are here, I hand out a few gifts. I don’t really remember too much from this period, it is kind of like a dream that someone told me about that I then feel like is my own. I probably could remember more, I probably don’t really want to. I do know that while in Korea I developed a love for the spirits. In Korea you just need to be able to crawl to the bar and say “Soju!” and the God of soju appears. I was eighteen at the time, took first grade twice to learn English for those counting, so drinking sounded like a remarkably great idea. I recall guzzling a pint of rum, post finding out my big news, then proceeding to spread my breakfast, lunch, and dinner all over Pusan. Yes, drinking was definitely for me. Now let’s go to college…
Jason C. Cushman