ESCAPE FROM DETROIT
(I must have used this title in the past before, I'm sure.)
I woke early to go to the gym today. Ran, and lifted briefly, just so I wouldn’t feel like I was atrophying even more on our 14 hour plane ride.
My mom is over now, cleaning up around the apartment, telling me about Korean pickpockets, poisoned beef, and how the Japanese kimono was influenced by the Korean hanbok, again.
[ MOM : "... but the Japanese forgot how to make the hanbok, so they made the kimono too big and it doesn't look as nice as the hanbok.... "]
Although I’ve only had four hours of sleep, I’m very excited about the trip. I’m looking forward to seeing the historical sites. I wasn’t so interested in ancient history last time I was in Korea. I was too wow'ed by the modern fashions and pop culture then. But things are different now. My interest has deepened. I've read enough of Korean history to appreciate that which existed before the pop idols and internet cafes. I figure I will be able to finish my touristy book during the plane ride as well.
The Detroit airport is familiar to us by now. They even have the exact five archaic arcade games they had 2 years ago (which were years out-of-date then). The screen is so burnt out on Killer Instinct that you can barely make out the cleavage on the tonfa-wielding Orchid. I give it a try anyways and say goodbye to American video games for two weeks.
[ Extraneous video game history : Killer Instinct was another Mortal Kombat rip-off known for it's 20-hit combos and HUGE breasted femmes. Huge bouncing pixellated mammaries wouldn't be perfected until Dead or Alive 2 years later (2000).]
PUNK BOYS AND SAD GIRLS
In the baggage line, I see two stocky white kids in baggy jeans. One has Chinese characters tattooed down the back of his neck. What an ass, I think. But then I think it would look great in one of my drawings. I make a mental note.
In the Airport. Sue and Steve (Amy’s sister and husband) are waiting with us. We sit in a sea of mostly Korean faces, except for two slightly uncomfortable looking Caucasians in front of us and a Filipino group to my left.
"I know that girl over there," Steve says pointing to a young Asian couple, "I beat up one of her guy friends in high school."
She looks familiar to me as well, although I hardly know any Korean people my age who aren’t related to Amy. The girl has distinctive sad looking eyes. I’m sure I’ve seen her before. Maybe in college.
"We used to call her Shingles in high school," he adds, like a confession. Steve seems to confess to his past transgressions more often these days.
My gut aches when I hear that. I want to ask him how you can make fun of a little Korean girl when you are Korean yourself. The question itself is flawed though. It doesn’t matter what you are. People always beat down their own kind as well as others.
I’ve grown too cynical of everything back in the United States. In Korea, my heart is wide open, if only because I have no idea what is really going on there. I am knowingly naive there. I should try to bring some of that back when I return to the U.S., I think.
Eventually Sue and Steve decide to leave us. Amy uncharacteristically hugs her sister for a long time.
"Steve look!" Sue exclaims out of surprise as Amy hugs her. They leave.
"That was the first time I’ve ever hugged Sue," Amy says, "I made sure I hugged her for a long time."
I ask her why, and Amy characteristically cannot explain why she did that.
While boarding the plane, there are no less than seven big security guards and a dog sniffing people. It wasn't like this two years ago.
"What’s that about?" Amy asked.
"Probably something about the North-South relations lately," I say.
An Asian guy with a Rastafarian cap gets sniffed by the dog as well. He’s toast (or burnt weed, more appropriately?), I think to myself. The dog lets him past. Too cynical.
I try to pet the dog when he walks by me but apparently he's on duty.
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