The question I'm asked the most from friends, besides, "Have you banged a Korean girl yet?" is "Have you kicked anybody's ass out there yet?" And the answers are "Well, duh," and, "Not in this lifetime." You see, if a foreigner fights a Korean, he gets immediately deported. You might think, "So what? Don't get caught." Well, hold on, Sparky.
In Korea, as you walk down the street to your local 7-11 (yep, there are 7-11's in Asia), hidden cameras snap your photo about three times every 50 meters. No kidding. So no matter how badass you are, or how fast you run, you're going to be on film. And since I stick out like a widow-peaked pink thumb, I'm not taking any chances. I actually like my job and my life, so I'm not risking it beat somebody up.
But, as always, the chances have come up.
Fight #1: Senior Citizen Domestic Dispute
It's 3 a.m. and I'm in my apartment preparing a lesson plan about The Swiss Family Robinson for my cute little students. My usually quiet sort-of elderly neighbors (I thought they were dead) start fighting. And our cement walls are thick. Usually I can't hear them. Hopefully they can't hear me as I download Spankwire movies in bulk.
But this time, they're yelling. And hitting the walls. And breaking glass. And yelling some more. I go outside, but I don't know whether to knock or call the police. Then I remember, I can't speak a lick of Korean except "thank you" and "beer." I can't dial 9-1-1 because that's not the emergency number here (I later learned it's 1-1-9).
I'm on a three-day drinking bender. I see a guy screaming swear words in Korean. He tries to stare at me, but I wink at him and he stumbles.So I re-enter my apartment and think, "There's nothing I can do." Then I hear them in the hallway. Now they're slamming each other on the door. So I go outside in my flip flops, board shorts, and a tank top.
An adjashi (old Korean guy) is screaming at his wife and trying to take her purse. She has marks all over her face. I grab him buy the collar (remember, I paid for school as a bouncer) and toss him to the ground. He makes a move to fight me, then realizes I'm twice his size. He tries to move and I know he doesn't understand English so I yell the only other language I know, "Policia!" Which is Spanish for "Police!" He looks at me strangely and releases the old lady's purse. I think I've scared him but later realize that if he doesn't know English he sure as hell doesn't know Spanish.
The adjashi humbly stands up and enters his house. The old lady and I stand outside listening to her assailant sweep up broken glass and cry. I motion to my door and say, "Would you like, um, some tea or something?" I think she's thinks I'm asking for a blowjob. We shrug our shoulders and go the opposite way. (Later I think they separated and moved out. I still saw the old man, and he kindly avoided me as far as ducking into somebody else's doorway.)
Fight #2: Mano-a-Mano-a-Distracto
Same thing. It's late, I'm writing my lesson plan (or cheating at computer chess), and I hear a lot of yelling and smashing. Only this time, it's next to my elevator. I peek outside to see two young Korean guys fighting as two bored girls watch. I figured they'll tire out, but five minutes later they're still going. Only yelling more often and loudly.
I exit my apartment and shout, "Can one of you fucking pussies just win already so I can fucking go to sleep?"
One guy looks back at me and sneers, then the other dipshit suckerpunches him in the face. I watch him crumble and bounce on the tiles. I laugh and say, "Good. Now that's over."
Fight #3: Homeless Public Property Dispute
I'm walking from the grocery store with some friends. Our store is right next to a bus station, which, like bus stations everywhere, is where homeless guys sleep. They start arguing over a park bench, then they start fighting and doing some bullshit Taekwondo crap.
My friends look at me expecting me to jump in, but I tell them, "I don't mess with homeless guys. I don't like getting stabbed." My friends nod and we carry on.
Fight #4: It's Not the Size of the Dog in the Fight, It's the Volume of His Bark
I'm not in the vicinity of my apartment. I'm on a three-day drinking bender and I'm trying to buy a corndog somewhere (who knows where) at four in the morning. I see a guy screaming swear words in Korean. Everybody is looking at him. He tries to stare at me, but I wink at him and he stumbles onward yelling some more.
I start eating my corndog and watch the show unfold. He pushes some other people.
The ROK cops come. He calls them something. They try to throw him into the cop car, but it takes four of them to shove Screamo into the car. His shoe keeps falling off, so a cop keeps letting go of him and picking up the shoe. That gives Screamo the leverage to fight more. This happens over and over. I wonder if I should do what American cops do, and slam his head against the door and kick him a few times. I wonder where the Tasers are. I laugh.
I turn to my friend, "I really, really don't want those pussies to ever come to my rescue. Because if I can't win the fight, they sure as shit can't either."
My corndog is delicious.