1) Running out on the bill at a Korean restaurant. This is roughly equivalent to ordering a Happy Meal at McDonalds, snatching the bag from your server prior to paying them, and then running off in a fit of giggles. In fact, shenanigans of this nature are likely why McDonald’s makes you pay immediately after ordering.
2) Trying to pick up the “hot” bartender, who is hardly pushing a 4 to those lacking beer goggles. Failing miserably. Find yourself in disbelief that she was able to resist your telling her how ample her chest looked in that shirt. Drown your sorrows in tequila. Pass out in the washroom stall. Wake up in a pool of your own vomit.
3) Leaving your debit cards with other people and then wondering why on earth somebody else has their bank card. Proceed to engage in a physical scrap over the matter with somebody who has no idea who you or the person with your bank card is. When the person with your bank card offers to give it back, utilize your caveman-like vocabulary to harass them via text message.
While there are an infinite number of equally absurd possibilities here, today I shall focus on scenario number 3.
The Plan for this past weekend had been to stay home to relax, watch movies, clean, and a whole lot of nothing else. The Plan did not come to fruition. It never does, which is precisely why I should never plan anything. Much to my dismay, a friend is leaving Korea this week, so Saturday was planned as her Official Last Night Out. It would have been blasphemous to not attend. I compromised with The Plan by telling myself – and anybody willing to listen - that it would be an early night.
Just before 3am I found myself at this all-you-can-drink-for-15-dollars spot on the other side of town from where I live. Most of the people I had come with were getting ready to hop to midtown. One of my friends who wasn’t feeling terribly well had been pounding the water for about half an hour and decided that it would be best to get a cab with me back towards Western Busan. Just one more more cup of water first. I waited at the bar with her to see if I could also swing a plastic bag for her in the cab “just in case”. In the midst of waiting, I was approached by a Frat Boy. Who else approaches me? I apparently have Frat Boy Friendly Pheromones (if I ever release my own perfume, I’m totally calling it that). As a result of my Frat Boy Friendly Pheromones, I had to endure the following dialogue:
Random Frat Boy (RFB):
Me: It’s just about to end
RFB: Too bad. It’s early go-ins!
Me:
RFB:
Me: Uh… no?
RFB:
Me: Uh… no?
RFB: Oh, yeah, for sure. You totally do.
Me: Which season?
RFB: Huh?
Me: Which season of Top Model does this look alike of mine happen to be on? There have been something like 37 seasons of that program.
RFB: Uh, I’m not sure.
Me: My hair is brown.
RFB: … and your face… very similar features …
Me:
RFB: Here, take down my number. When you see that you look JUST like the Top Model girl, you can call me.
Me:
RFB:
Me: Dude, I’m leaving. My friend…
RFB: Take a shot to go!
Me: Ah, what the Hell.
RFB proceeds to try to pay for said shots with his bank card. In order to understand how incredibly stupid is, one needs to realize that this is not North America where people live and die by their debit card. Most places, especially bars, will only accept cash. Despite this, RFB is stunned to learn that his card won’t go through. He demands that the bar tender try again. Two more failed attempts and he advises me that he’ll be “right back”, and then disappears into the crowd. In his absence the bar tender passes me his bank card.
Five minutes pass. I bore of waiting for him, so I pay the tab. In the midst of searching for my friend who is taking the taxi with me, I forget that I have his bank card. Five minutes into the taxi ride home and I remember. Damn. Not only did I end up with some RFB’s phone number, but now I actually had to use it! I text him to let him know that I have his bank card and will arrange for him to get it back ASAP. A flurry of ridiculous texts from this himbo later and the following is established:
1) He has no recollection of stiffing me with the bar tab.
2) This is largely because he has no recollection whatsoever of having met me. That was soooo 25 minutes ago!
3) He either thinks that I’ve stolen his bank card or am one of his buddy’s messing with him.
4) Within the 25 minutes since I saw him last, he’s managed to get a black eye while fighting somebody over his “stolen” bank card. Presumably this other person is a moron, too.
5) Despite having no idea who I am and having made it very clear that he’s already gotten into fist cuffs over this very issue tonight, he’d like for me to meet him Right Now so that he can have his card back.
I advise him that I’m going to bed and he can have it back in the morning. As prompt as he is bright, I hear from him again around 3 in the afternoon. After establishing that I have a vagina and did not actually steal his bank card, he suggests that we met later that night. I inform him that I’m happy to give him his card back and ask where the best area of town to meet would be. I received no response and have not heard from him since.
Thank God.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s still welcome to have his card back. I’m not a bad person. I told him that I had the card immediately after noticing I had left the bar with it. I genuinely felt badly about the entire thing. I just think that it’s absolutely fantastic that I didn’t actually have to meet him again. God willing, he’s probably already replaced the card by now and forgotten about the entire thing.
Big White Barbie: 131231242343
Random Frat Boy: 0
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