Saturday, February 16, 2013

Leaving and Shaking

Putting the Boy on the plane was sad.

So I had tried to schedule some things to do that would make me less sad. One of those was getting a room for two nights and planning to meet the Irish in Itaewon later.  He was in meetings all day and figured he could stay overnight in Seoul.

This worked for me too, and since the room had two beds it was even easier. A quick phone call later and the Kiterunner was in for a Saturday meetup. Then there was the Editor, on my radar for a while but new to my social scene; she would join the melee. Mostly, she was meeting the Irish, and I was just a happy addition.

Then I found out that Dirty Beaches were coming to Seoul. I liked the band, a little low-fi punk outfit out of Montreal with an all right sound, and they wouldas it turned outbe playing in Seoul that night. Seemed like a good bet. More emails all around and before I knew it I had four people signed up for a night of dinner, drinking, and concert-going. I worried a touch about the Irish as the music was not his particular flavor, but I figured if he didn’t mind coming out then why not?

The Boy on the plane, a knock on my door, halfway through a drudgingly boring report, a dog dropped off, plans to meet later, a nap. The nap was necessary, I had not slept the night before and without sleep I was fairly certain I would not make it to the show. I woke around five and decided to go have a drink and do some more work while I waited for the crew to meet up.

Not two minutes after sitting down in a bar did my phone ring.

“Where are you?” the Irish asked.

“Having wine. Where are you?”

“At the room.”

“Oh, dude, I just left.”

“I’ll come to you.” I did my best to explain where I was sitting, which was not a place where I intended to eat as the food was as expensive as the booze. Mostly I just wanted the wine and a nice environment. However that plan got shortly laid to rest when within a few minutes of my quiet glass of wine alone, I was surrounded by the entire motley crew.

The night began with politics. I knew it would and I tried to be patient through the politics. I did not drink a second glass of wine, although I considered it. Instead I waited for the politics to end, piping in when I was interested enough to say something, but mostly letting the Irish deal with the whole thing. Eventually we got hungry from all the talking and split a small salad four ways. Enough to wet the appetites and convince us to move.

No comments: