Late Night
It's 2:20 am on Friday, and I'm up this late because I forgot I was going to meet Aya tonight for the last time before she goes back to Japan.

Aya was my housemate and schoolmate for two months before I moved in with my dad. She's Japanese, a smart cookie, and deeply interested in North Korea. In fact, I would say that her interest in North Korea goes beyond interest. It's like an obsession. Or like a calling. She went there a few years ago and met a comfort woman and a man who had been forced to labor for the Japanese army in WW2. And since then she was determined to find some way to work with North Korea, to help the people there.

So she plunged into learning Korean and getting to know Koreans. Tonight, when I asked her what she liked about Korea (after spending about an hour complaining about stuff we didn't like), she paused and then said, "Actually, I'm not really interested in South Korea. I want to learn about it and learn about Korean culture because of my interest in North Korea."

Yesterday, at the graduation (for people who finished the 6th level), Aya and I agreed to meet up this week, since she's going back to Japan in two weeks. Since I too am going out of town, this week seemed to be the only time we had that overlapped.

But I thought we agreed on Friday, so I was surprised to get a call from her asking where we were meeting tonight. I was actually at the Coex Mall, buying some presents, which is about a 40 minute ride away from where Aya lives. I was also feeling kind of blue, and wasn't too keen about meeting up tonight.

But since I hadn't seen Aya very much this term, I thought, "Cut the bullcrap, young grasshopper! Let's get going."

I'm really glad I did, for my Korean's gotten to a point where I can express some opinions and have a fairly interesting conversation, and I like talking with Aya. She's curious and thoughtful and adventurous, and I hate the fact that she's leaving, but I console myself with the thought that she actually bought a roundtrip open-ended ticket, and will be back sometime within the next year.

After dinner (cheese ramen! Not to be believed til you try it!) and some bland tea lattes at Starbucks (do they have this in the States?), I suggested going to a bar. We hied ourselves over to one that Aya knew, and put away a small bottle of lemon soju, which is what I had last night too. Mm. Lemonade.

After a rather sad goodbye at the subway turnstile, I got on what turned out to be the last train home, relieved that I had actually caught it this time. It was 12:30, so I tried calling my dad to tell him why I wasn't home yet, but my phone, strangely, died, and so I got cut off just after I said, "Hi dad," and he replied, "Where are you?"

I thought about calling him again from a pay phone, but there weren't any in the station. Then I thought about borrowing someone's phone, but I felt weird about it.

So I just sat there.

Until.

The train stopped 10 stations before mine.

Fuck!

Everyone got off the train, and I confirmed with a station employee that all trains had stopped.

Fuck!

Everyone seemed to be streaming out the same way, so I followed my nose, feeling worried. Descending the stairs onto the street, a young woman asked me if I knew the way to Jamsil, an area close to where I live, and I replied that I didn't, but that I needed to
go that way too. Was there a bus? No, she replied in a what-are-ya-stupid-or-sumthin' tone, they've stopped.

Fuck!

Fortunately, there were quite a lot of young people in the same position, and fortunately, there were plenty of cabbies around. Now taking a cab in Seoul is a bit of a trick, because if the driver doesn't want to go your way, he won't pick you up. So the de-trained people, including me, stood by the road and shouted into the cabs where they wanted to go, whereupon if the driver felt like it, he would nod you in.

After a few cabs went by, I got the nod from a cabbie who lingered in the same spot after I got in. I noticed the young woman who'd asked me if I were going to Jamsil, and said, "That person's going to Jamsil too."

She got the nod, and got in.

And then two more.

And so we made a merry five. Well, a merry four, anyway; I didn't partake in the conversation, but the driver was a jolly sort, and joked that if the second woman sang a song, she wouldn't have to pay. The two people who'd gotten in last were also funny:
Guy: Can you just charge us one fare?
Cabbie: When pigs fly!
Guy: C'mon, we're uh, we're married! Yeah, that's it!
Cabbie: Yeah, right, you probably didn't even know each other before you got in the car, ha hah, you probably do this with complete strangers all the time in order to get discounts, ha hah.

Anyway, after a jolly 15 minutes, I finally got dropped off in the vicinity of home, and arrived to this:

Dad (upon hearing me open the door): Helen? Is that you?
Me: Yeah, it's me.
Dad: Where WERE you?
Me: I was in Shinchon, having dinner with Aya. I'm sorry, my phone went dead when I called you.
Dad: I called the police!
Me: What? I called less than an hour ago!
Dad: It's dangerous here at night! People get kidnapped, and forced to labor! People disappear! I was about to call my friend who works for the Korean CIA! I was looking for information to call the U.S. embassy too!
Me (dumbfounded): But, but ... I just talked to you an hour ago!
Dad: If you'd been kidnapped, it would have been crucial to start looking right away!
Me: But couldn't you tell that I wasn't panicked when I called? I said, "Hi Dad!" not "Help!"
Dad: Yes, of course I thought of that. But imagine -- you call and it's disconnected, and then another call comes (I'd tried to call again, at which point the phone went completely dead) and I can't reach you?
Me (feeling awful): I'm sorry you were so worried. I thought about calling you but I didn't see a payphone, and I felt weird about asking to borrow a stranger's phone. I don't know why my phone went dead. Next time I'll borrow someone's phone.
Dad: Yes, people here will let you do that. And please tell me now where you'll be.
Me: Okay. I'm sorry you were so worried.
Dad: All right. It's okay.

Did my dad overreact? Well, yeah, I think so. Do I find it weird and a little hypocritical that after five years of living on my own in the murder capital of the U.S., during which my dad and I barely spoke once a year, my dad should now be so worried about me? A little. Did I feel like complete and utter shit? Yes. When you scare someone so badly, and you totally could have prevented it, you feel like ... I don't know, like you kicked your dog out of pique and the dog is now looking at you with big sad doggie eyes, like "How could you do this to me?"

Okay, that was a really bad comparison, but you know what I mean.

My dad calmed down remarkably fast, and that did a lot to make me feel better too. But it's a striking enough episode for me to want to report it here. After all, we're talking about my dad being scared enough to call the freakin' police, and my dad doesn't scare easily. In fact, he doesn't feel many emotions, period, something that he freely admits to. Perhaps I should feel annoyed at his panicky protectiveness. But I don't.

Huh.