I'm a simple man, full of simple intentions, led by simple desires, and misled by simple arithmetic. When I'm tired, I go to bed. When I'm hungry, I eat. When I'm bored, I touch myself. When I seek companionship, I play Japanese dating simulations. Above all else, when I need money, I go to an automated teller and withdraw money. End of story.
Not all people feel the same way about life, and I can respect those viewpoints, even if they confuse -and amuse- me incessantly.
On Friday, I pranced into the local KB branch to withdraw some cash, as Friday nights require a fair amount of transactions to occur, and I got in line. There were three machines, all occupied upon my untimely arrival.
Middle-aged woman, using the machine, but not for any manner of transaction known to the common man. In the span of five minutes, during which I awaited my turn at bat, I never saw this woman deposit (or remove) money of any kind, nor did I see anything that implied a transfer whatsoever. Have you seen those touch-screen games at bars, the ones that people drop coins into for the sole purpose of making themselves appear engaged by something other than alcoholism? That's what it was like, with her pressing buttons, as if she were locating the missing flower amidst two seemingly identical pictures. Fun stuff.
Elderly gentleman, accompanied by a tiny, annoying dog, that withdrew 20,000 won. He then removed his card, inserted it again, and proceeded to remove an additional 20,000 won. Again, and again, and again; at least six times, as best I kept count. I haven't the slightest idea as to why he elected to do so, nor do I really care to understand. It was for the best, really, and watching him elicited mild nausea.
Younger guy, in his early twenties, that merely stood in front of the screen and inspected his hair meticulously. To be fair, I understand that elvish sideburns require the utmost care, and one should take pride in their appearance whatever the situation. My only complaint was that his cellphone probably had an equally reflective surface in which gaze upon his terrible beauty, so the automated teller machine could have been freed up.
The sideburns guy was 'finished' first, so I arose to meet my fate and, honestly, it took me all of one minute to take care of my business. Cash in hand, I left the building, while the old man and the lady were still getting their groove back. In all honesty, I really don't understand the necessity for such lethargic transactions, but this isn't my show, so I'll leave it at that.
Another thing that boggles my mind is the family that dwells in the apartment across the street from me. Occasionally I open my window to let the cool breeze in, and to allow the cigarette smoke to seep outward, and what do I see? In their living room, for all eyes to see, is -and I'm not making this shit up- a palm tree. I don't know if it's real or fake, but it's definitely tall enough to reach the ceiling, and the leaves stretch out a considerable distance. This is odd enough, but the decisive factor is that, any time beyond midnight, the father walks around naked, whether it be to check the fridge for more soju, or to watch television while drink soju standing up. The guy must be proud of his body, or just doesn't give a damn, and I can respect that, but coupled with the palm tree, it's rather disorienting. Neither his wife nor his kids do the same, but to reiterate, he does this while his wife does housework, and his kids are in the other room playing a bootlegged version of Starcraft. Classy, like Psychedelic Kimchi.
Life is nothing, if not for the memories.
The Broccoli and Refried Bean Burrito