Alright sports fans, it's time for the loooooove motel (said in your best Barry White impersonation).  So Sunday, before my first day as my new boss took me out for lunch and coffee, we also stopped in at a motel on the sixth floor of a building nearby.  MJ, my female boss with her husband, informed me that Spencer, the former teacher, would be at the apartement for two more days and that I would need accomodations for the following nights.  I didn't mind because the motel was much closer to the school and the idea of staying in a Korean motel was exciting to say the least.  We went up the elevator together, and MJ paid the man behind a pane of glass with a 1' by 1' square which you could see through.  I didn't know any different...maybe all motel concierges hide behind bulletproof glass with a prison style opening large enough for keys, water, and maybe the nozzle of a fire hose if you were misbehaving.

MJ smiled and said the man would have my key waiting for me the next night.  I smiled (the universal language) and we went about the rest of our Sunday outing.  The next day, I was introduced to Spencer, a 26 year old guy from Minneapolis, Minnesota.  We instantly became best friends with a rapport because face it: he spoke English.  But seriously, he was a great guy, and I immensely enjoyed getting to know him for the small amount of time afforded to do so.  He happened to ask where I would be staying while he was still in the apartment.  I proudly announced that MJ had rented me a room already and that he need not worry about my lodging.  

It was the grin that set everything in motion.  He then quietly laughed and allowed the awkwardnes of the moment to marinade in real nice.  He looked at me and said, "Ah, the love motel."  I would normally be relieved to hear that my fellow ex-pat was aware and even knowledgeable about my room for the next two nights.  But that grin....I quickly asked if he knew the one around the corner by the Paris Bakery.  Oh yes friends, the same Paris Bakery I will never enter again due to my grace and skill of kissing the door with an impact that would anger a playful rhino.  He replied that yes he did and that he had stayed there prior to my arrival during a similiar transition.  

"I thought it was very nice,"  I blurted out knowing that his reply would act as a counterweight to my optimism.  "Korea is famous for these motels," he informed me.  "They are quite the stay."  "So what's the deal?" I asked, or more like begged because I knew he knew something good, something important, something worth knowing.  "Let's just say they are available by hourly rates as well as nightly stays."

OK.  No big deal.  There are doors.  Probably thick walls.  The motel was not huge, and it's Monday night for crying out loud.  Surely, there are slow seasons and times in all lines of work.  I finished my day, and Spencer invited me out for Korean BBQ with a large group of foreigners from South Africa, England, and Australia doing the same thing I am doing here.  He told me to meet him outside the building at a specified time so I could walk with him to the restaurant.  I agreed and took the elevator up to my room.  The thoughts that were running through my head as the elevator climbed to Gomorrah were random and unsettling.  I was dressed in a business suit with the same water bottle shower I had sported all day.  At first I thought this would be a plus (the suit and all) as I look professional and someone that simply needed a place to stay.  Then my mind turned that flapjack over and I realized this looked worse.  White.  Business suit.  55 gallon hiking bag.  Dirty hair.  Oh man....

I poked my head in the mail slot at the front office, and of course, it wasn't the same guy.  It was an elderly woman that lived during all four plagues (yeah, there were a bunch of them) and even saw Pangea separate.  She came to the window and said "eh?"  Hahahaha, now I'm doing sign language for "key" and trying to find the two inch receipt MJ gave me for proof.  I presented the gum wrapper of a receipt and she cries, "Ohhh yeessssss."  She grabbed a key and points to the stairs.  As I walked away, she cried again "Wait uh"  (every English word ends in uh)  She handed me a "package."  A prophylactic package to be exact.  I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my room.  The decor was quite funky and the bed was a perfectly round circle, nice for spooning I suppose but not six foot Americans.  I instantly knew I would be lucky to have both my head and knees touching the mattress simultaneously.  The bathroom was quite nice, and I left the "package" in the bathroom.


The evening was short with other patrons that all displayed "do not disturb" signs from the door handles.  They were a vocal lot, and I felt immersed into another part of Korean culture albeit the underbelly of said culture.  I really wanted to keep this PG, so I hope  the innuendo will suffice and for those who don't know the word "innuendo," well now... that's the point.  Cheers