[This picture was taken at a McDonald's in Korea.
The shy girl and curious boy didn't realize I was intentionally
trying to get them in the picture with Amy until we SHOWED them right
after this pic. We left before he phoned his cycle gang.]
BATHROOM RAIDER AND THE BIDET OF DOOM
(continuing with the retro-entered Korea entries, Day 4)
Our room at the Marriott in Seoul was pretty nice.
And tailored for the extremely ass-conscious, apparently.
The toilet seat had some sort of heating mechanism in it, with a phone nearby and TV speakers directly above. (Do you really want to be talking to someone on the toilet?)
There was also a button to activate the bidet and yet another one for a more thorough intra-cheek spritzing (with pressure and temperature settings of course).
And yes I tried it, and I daresay I liked it. My ass was so clean you could eat sushi off of it. (Except that the sushi would roll off. Amy says I have a "round butt.")
Naturally, my curiosity got to me though. Like where does this water come from? I don't see a spout in the toilet and when I press the button when I'm off of the toilet, nothing happens.
Remembering my Indiana Jones movies, I surmised that it was either pressure or light triggered.
I pressed the button. Nothing.
Not having a prepared bag of sand at the almost-correct weight, I instead put my foot on the seat and pressed the ass-wash button again. (There was actually a little cartoon of a butt on the button.)
The mystery was solved! A tiny plastic nozzle emerged from under the seat, at 12 o'clock (or butt crack position). Interesting, I thought, not realizing the obviously inevitable next event.
Despite being nearly four feet from the toilet opening, the nozzle succeeded in dousing me with a jet stream of warm pressurized water not only in my left eye and face but in my nose and left ear as well.
(But man, was I clean!)
As the water knocked me back, my foot left the toilet seat, while I reeled back into the glass shower stall shouting expletives and reaching for a towel as I slid to the ground.
I washed my face and dried my hair, thankful that Amy was still asleep.
But no, that was only half of the puzzle!
I still wanted to see if the other button was different from the ass-wash button since it seemed to spray a slightly different area (the "perineum" in med-speak) with slightly different pressure. (Can you tell how often I tested this feature?)
Cautiously, like a curious cat with a deathwish-by-drowning, I placed one foot on the seat, and pressed the other bidet button.
I tensed with that familiar mechanized hum (although my sphincter relaxed, curiously). A different nozzle emerged slowly like a mechanized asp about to strike.
I released my foot, and leapt back in a face-protective position.
The nozzle disappeared and the (second) disaster was averted.
(I don't just play Tomb Raider. I live it.)
The next morning ….
ME : "Hey baby, I figured out how the bidet worked why you were asleep."
AMY : "I can tell. There was water all over the mirrors."
ME : "I got a shot of ass-wash water in my eye and nose and ear though."
AMY : "Sigh. What kind of mischief do you get into when I'm asleep?"
ME : "Try the bidet, baby. You'll like it. Just don't keep your foot on the seat too long when you press the button."
There's wisdom in that statement somewhere.
Or maybe that's the ass-wash in my ear talking.
SLICK MIND TRICK
Amy bought two new toothbrushes for our trip. She hates it when I use hers by accident (or laziness, actually). I figure what difference does it make, since she kisses this mouth anyways.
AMY : "Hey! Which toothbrush have you been using?"
ME : "Which one am I supposed to be using?"
AMY : "The blue one."
ME : "I've been using the blue one."
See how easy that is?
CAN'T TOUCH THIS
We also went market hopping today.
Shopping on the streets is fun. One of my favorite things about Seoul is the whole market atmosphere in certain districts.
Young vendors say hello and try to get your attention. Desperate old restaurant owners will actually grab you by the arm asking you to come in and eat. People everywhere, young, old, all beautiful to me. I love the crowds. (Although I also keep my hand on my wallet at all times.)
So many faces to see.
I gave in to my inner Cyber Boy and bought a smooth leather jacket that my regular self probably wouldn't buy back in the United States and slick zipper shoes. (Some great deals according to Amy.) All I need now is one of those plug-in jacks in the back of my head and a black reflective matrix suit.
It didn't feel as "foreign" as it did two years ago. I greeted shop owners and said "hello" and "thank you" in Korean. People still stared and looked away when I stared back, but I didn't mind. I looked at strangers and smiled.
I even recognized one of my all-time favorite K-singers (Lee Jung Hyun) playing overhead and had to restrain my joyful foreign devil feet from hopping about.
Then they played MC Hammer. And it actually sounded pretty good there too, somehow.
Uh Oh Uh Oh Wuh Oh Uh Oh. Two legit. Aniyo* on the balloon pants. Yo.
In short, I acted very differently than I normally do here.
There was a blonde Caucasian girl folding clothes in one of the stores. She probably lived there for years, and she got a few stares as well.
She ignored them and looked at no one.
We rumbled our way through the crowds and even rode the "third largest escalator in the world" in the Mesa department store, which took us to the 8th floor with no stops (but there were several tiny TV sets to watch as we moved upward). We had to shop our way back down to the first floor again. Nice trick.
Amy's uncle saved us over $200 with price haggling that day. He let us buy them dinner in one of those desperate but delicious tiny 2nd floor restaurants. We sat on the floor and were the only customers there.
It was delicious.
*["aniyo" means "no."]
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