Chanchthebadman on travel, queers, street merchants, and darkies

Anyway, just got back from seoul. I was supposed to meet an old battle buddie in itaewon, but he got called up and deployed to Iraq for another 18 months--the bastards in the pentagon don't care that Bill jumped out of a C 130 into the Suni triangle back in 2002 and broke his knee when he landed, only then to be hit with a flash gernade. He's only recently been able to handle direct sunlight, and he still limps like a tired horse. He's a soldier, though, so he doesn't complain.

I had a night in itaewon alone, and I figured I'd try to enjoy it. I don't need R&R now as much as I did when I was a soldier, but I still like some peace and quiet away from the kids, you know? Well first thing happens when I walk down the street is this slope asks me if I need a tailor-made suit. Talior-made suit. I said no, and as I walked away, I thought of the suits Bill and I bought when we were stationed in Tibet, monitoring the Chineese troop movement. The pockets fell off. We laughed.

I never thought there'd be so many darkies in Korea, and I'm not just talking about Africans. I saw a mosque, and what appeared to be a paki. He sure smelled like a paki. That takes me back, that smell. They eye me suspiciously, because they know I know the score.

After a few beers, I went to go up hooker hill, but I must have taken a wrong turn, because I saw two men kissing, so I said, "what are you, a fucking queer." And one of them said, "Um, yeah."

I turned around and got the hell out of there.