Koreans know how to party
Seems I struck a never with someone on my racism post, which made me wanna talk about it more!
Pictured: white devil viciously breaking the Ramadan fast with his Moroccan friends in a discriminatory manner.
However, I don’t want this blog to be all negativity, which bring us to one of my favorite parts about Korea: the night life. I had the pleasure of meeting a group of Korean night goers who proceeded to reteach me how to party.
The first weekend I hung out with these these practiced party goers, they took me to a club, which is very unfortunately named in light of recent events, called Syndrome.
Everybody with MERS say “YE-AH!”
I’m not that much of an experienced clubber. So, I can’t really give this club a rating, but it was just about what I expected. Shoulder to shoulder people, heat as intense as the Sahara, drinks so expensive it would be cheaper to just drink liquid gold.
How sober me views clubs.
Yet, when I’m heavily intoxicated by Korean standards (sorry liver), I turn into a dancing machine. I bobbed and weaved and shook in every direction, not even coming close to being on beat. Yet I didn’t care, I was having a blast. I even felt it necessary to show the scantily clad dancers how to actually work that pole.
All in all, I had a great time and when we left, I learned a valuable lesson. Upon walking out the doors, the sun was coming up, people were passed out in the street and I realized I had wasted money on a hostel room. See, before that night, I didn’t realize Koreans party ALL night long, making a room unnecessary. My new friends were kind enough to keep an eye on me in the chaos of of the club and we all got some post-clubbing eats. I don’t remember what it was, but this is Korea so it was no doubt delicious.
The subsequent weekends I hung with them I learned some more valuable lessons on how to properly party in Korea. First, you gotta be a bit of a dick if you want to drink. The bar in question we were at that Saturday was called Thursday Party. It packed well beyond US fire codes, with shoulder to shoulder people and for some reason only 6 bartenders. There must have been 300 people squeezed into a space designed to fit maybe 50 and if you wanted one of their famous cheap drinks, you had to earn it. My friend, who I will call Mike, taught me just how to get a bartender’s attention. You have push, shove and elbow your way to the front, then stick your hand right in their face.
The second lesson I learned was to never challenge Master Jung to any drinking games. Master Jung is the owner (I think) of Seoul Pub, a notoriously rancorous bar located in the heart of Itaewon, where Master Jung is always up for drinking challenge or some street magic.
I have met some characters in my travels, but few are as colorful as Master Jung, a self described “drink master, money master, band-bang master” (all accompanied by appropriate pantomime). I watched in amazement as he plowed his way through the “blow up a condom with your nose till it pops” challenge.
Master Jung is the one on the right.
I was stunned how he was able to pull of impressive card tricks while barley able to stand. I was dumbfounded as he consumed shot, after shot, after shot with customers yet remained standing and seemingly coherent. I’m positive if a vampire were to ever try Master Jung’s blood, they would drop dead instantly from alcohol poisoning.
But my favorite trick, something he clearly has a lot of experience doing, was the fire shots. Master Jung would line up a bunch of bomb-like drinks, take a sip of what i’m assuming is actual gasoline, then unleash a ball of fire like one of Dany’s dragons. Take a look below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yoc_TjI4ASc
Finally, the last lesson I learn is one my Korean friends aren't letting me forget, never wear shorts. I’m beginning to think that all Koreans are decedent from Targaryens due to their impressive ability to tolerate the most intolerable of heat. In fact, I rarely see them sweat. So, i decided to wear shorts one evening, so I could get some much need air flow. Alas, you cannot go into clubs with shorts. I didn’t know. Yet this group of outstanding people, who barley know me, stuck with me through the night.
The Next time I see them, I know i’m going to catch some shit for my shorts, but i look forward to it none the less.