A Night in Koreatown

I got a text from Natalie. It was a Friday night. I never had Friday nights off. I had this Friday night off. She said, you wanna get a drink? Just a couple. I can’t stay out late.

Yeah, I texted back. Where you wanna go.

Let’s do your hood.

Koreatown? I texted.

Yeah.

You driving?

Yeah.

Good luck parking.

She found parking easy.

Some women have all the luck. My Boogie has all the luck. But not in parking. That’s OK.

We went to the Prince first. All I had to do was tell Natalie the name of the place to intrigue her. She was adventurous. She had guts. I’ve known this girl since college. God. How many folks we’d left in our dust. It was bittersweet. But to be hanging out together, it was only good. We knew were lucky.

Luck again.

It was a dark place, just like I’d promised her. I wanted to scare her. I knew nothing would, but I wanted to try anyway.

We sat at the bar. The clientele was entirely Asian. One of them came up with a white shirt and a tie and put two huge menus in front of us. We took a look.

“Is the Prince good?” Natalie asked.

“It’s our most popular cocktail,” the guy said.

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll take a Blue Hawaiian and we’ll share the fried chicken. Half of it.”

“Two dollars more and you can get the whole thing,” he offered.

I shook my head. “We gotta stay light on our feet. This is just the beginning.”

He smiled and disappeared like a shadow.

“The Blue Hawaiian was Elvis’s favorite drink,” I told Natalie.

“I don’t like him,” she said.

“Why? Besides the obvious.”

Natalie is black. I am too, as far as the country we’re living in is concerned. So you should know what I mean here.

“I just knew girls who went silly over how he talked. I was never into that. Just seemed corny to me.”

I didn’t say so, but I disagreed with her there. I loved that twang. I loved that regional swagger. Rando Commando. The Rain. The Fraz. Lauren, my She-Wolf. The Avendano Brothers, Philly via Miami. Vince the Frenchman. Stan Rose. The Lewis Brothers. Tyrell. Jeff Schwartz.

Yeah, I said Jeff Schwartz. That one might throw you off. But that’s cause you weren’t looking. It’s a subtle thing. But it’s there. Originality. Authenticity. Someone who draws something from his land and gives it back. True and earnest love.

The fried chicken was OK. The drinks were pretty good. They were also half off til eight. The chips and salsa were dogshit. We were excited to be there. Old friends. It didn’t take us long to get into it. The bartender put a cherry in every single Blue Hawaiian I ordered. I never watched an episode of Mad Men. But episodes had been filmed in this place. We paid and got out of there.

We stumbled around Koreatown. I felt better in this place, even though I knew I’d only touched the tip of the iceberg. But it was enough to show someone who didn’t know something. Just enough.

We entered Dan Sung Sa. Dan Sung Sa means Porno Palace. Haha. You hear nothing from the outside, and then you walk in and it’s an explosion of noise. The place was dark and packed and everyone was eating and drinking and shouting and laughing and slamming things on the table. No windows. Graffiti everywhere. The music blared, but I can’t remember a single song.

We sat at the bar, and in the center, the warriors. Grilling and chopping and sweating. The lifeblood of the restaurant. I ordered fast and the girl taking the order never blinked. For some reason, the whole staff wore camouflage. Our waitress popped up with a bowl of hot soup. It was perfect. We ordered a bucket of soju and ten skewers of all different kinds of stuff. Weird stuff. Gizzards, rice cakes, frog legs. Natalie didn’t dig them. I thought they tasted like chicken soaked in water for too long. I had to ask for some hot sauce. They brought out three different kinds.

I was taking back shot after shot of soju like it was nobody’s business. It could’ve been kool-aid.

Two older women sat next to us. Two older Korean women. Their lives had gone beyond a time where they could enjoy a night like this without some guilt. But still, they were having a wild night and drew us into their orbit. Our lives were very different but it was still fun to intersect. They questioned Natalie endlessly. About her love life, about her job, about Virginia. They thought she was one of the most beautiful women they’d ever seen. They thought my beard made me look old and ugly. I liked them both very much.

I knocked over my chair telling them a story. The only advice I can really remember them telling me was to try to stay on good terms with your ex. They were both divorced, with children.

The place had such a great energy. I looked back at the booths, carved like a closet into the walls, bodies crammed in like sardines, everyone howling. I wish I had a group of my best friends here to get kicked out with. I wish Lena was here. We’d leave this place and stumble around the corner and get a karaoke room and sing til the sun came up. I could see that being my future. I hoped it would come soon.

I walked Natalie to her car.

“I only ever mean to have a couple drinks with you. Then this happens.”

“Night, girl. Call me when you get home.”