“Who made the machine that Koreans use to shrink all their chickens?”
Welcome Home!
Finally back on US soil and excited to be back although I’m feeling like maybe I should have tried to smuggle a little of the green I picked up in Seoul Korea because they totally skipped the pelvic exam I heard about. All I can think about is getting home and slipping into a long hot bath to wash away the dust, funk and recycled airplane air that I’m sure holds a hint of swine flu. My hands feel my stomach that has now morphed into a somewhat deflated basketball. My eyes bulge and I’m overcome with a sense of satisfaction. That’s right! It’s official I’m A Rock Star! That’s right, two and a half weeks in Seoul Korea, rocking shows, meeting awesome soldiers, getting drunk with awesome solider’s, hanging out late and sleeping in. I don’t know what you would call it but check the index in my book and you’ll find it under Rock Star *Ish!!
I may be wrong but I’ve thought long and hard about this and refuse to resign my position: I Do Not agree that you should go out of the country and deny yourself of their cuisines, desserts nor liquors. That’s just rude! Okay, so what I was eating on United States Military Bases and most of the meals and their menus were American, the fact is they were prepared with Native hands, (Oh Shit…is that PC to say? You know what I mean). That double cheese burger with chili cheese fries didn’t prepare itself. It was the Korean pots and stove and of course the water from their questionable pipes (I don’t care if that’s not PC. They tell you at the airport don’t drink the water!). “Extra cheese for your burger ma’am?” The server asks as she places a batch of Buffalo wings before me.
SIDEBAR: Who made the machine that Koreans use to shrink all their chickens? Their wings are freakishly tiny. Not to glorify the Protein shake, Steroid, Barry Bonds/Mark McGuire American wings but Korean wings look like they came from a one week old chick. But I digress…
“Extra cheese for your burger ma’am?” Without hesitation I say ‘you’re damn right” and offer the thumbs up, the universal symbol for “Let’s Do This!” It’s simply math, with the dollar exchange I’m only paying $.23 for that extra slice.
Sitting at breakfast one morning I’m informed by an evil server bitch who was possibly disturbed by my multiple trips to the elaborate buffet spread that “the hotel has a state of the art recreation facility that all guests have access to at your convenience ma’am.” INSERT FAKE SMILE HERE! Look, I have a gym membership I’ve been very successful at ignoring in the states. I’m on vacation and I believe that no vacation should include working out unless you’re running for a cab, bus, train, or the last serving of something. If I want to get in shape I’ll take a stroll up a mountain in hopes of getting chased a mile or two by a rabid panda bear or whatever deadly animal that lurks high in their mountains. Or maybe I’ll get a side job operating a Mandalay you know, the cart that serves as a taxi for people in Asia or out of work actors in NYC.
So in closing I believe that going away means doing everything that goes against your regular routine: Eating then falling directly asleep, passing gas in an elevator, being mean to kids, and anything else obnoxious but nothing that won’t land you in jail! I mean how else do you think great travel stories are created?
Hadiyah Robinson
www.hadiyahrobinson.com
