We got off the train and made our way to the exit of the sprawling building which looked more like a giant shopping centre than a train station. It was early evening - around half past seven - and as we made our way through the heart of the central business district, the twilight sun peeked out at us between the skyscrapers. It had been a scorcher of a day - the hottest of summer yet. Not the best day to pick for heading to a distant riverside regional town, whose claim to fame was being a paddle steamer port. As it turned out, the very day we chose to make the three-and-a-half hour train journey was the day the paddle steamers weren't plying. We spent a couple of hours in the sweltering heat, then took the next (and last) available train back to the big city.
We were bummed out, but the day wasn't over yet, and we decided to make the best of the time we had left. Wandering through the laneways, we found a decent Korean BBQ restaurant, and sat down to eat. Each of us ordered a dish that we'd never tried before. Our order was taken by a male waiter. Then we decided to try out some Korean beers as well, and the waitstaff who took our order of drinks was a cute Asian woman. I asked for her recommendation, and she brought me a refreshing lager to go with the food I'd ordered. I and my companions stayed in the restaurant for about two hours, eating, drinking and chatting. Although a couple of tables adjacent to ours were occupied by some very pretty women, I kept stealing glances over at our waitress. Her almond-shaped eyes sat atop a slim nose and lightly painted lips. Underneath her apron, she wore a yellow off-shoulder dress that seemed rather expensive. Once, when she caught me looking, I smiled. She smiled back.
We ordered two more rounds of beer. The third time, it was the male waiter who brought us our drinks. I looked around to find the waitress, but she was nowhere in sight. She must have finished her shift. We got up and went to the counter to pay. I took care of everyone's drinks bill, and headed out. We hadn't realised this, but we were in Koreatown. Around us there stood numerous bars and restaurants brimming with patrons. Their interiors were dimly lit. The night had only just started to sweep in. It seemed like if you hurried, you could still catch up to the dusk sun on its way.
It was still warm outside, and we'd just had a spicy meal. Forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, I lead the way to a nearby bar. A prop-up chalkboard outside advertised cheap soju. Never one to say no to trying out new kinds of liquor, I ordered two pint-bottles for us. Judging by the colour of the bottles, one could be forgiven for mistaking the contents for beer. But soju has 4 times the alcohol by volume content than beer, and is meant to be downed using shot glasses.
We took up a corner table. I poured the drink out for everyone, and ten minutes later we were already three shots down each. Then two of the guys dropped out of contention, citing dull excuses about work the next day. Now it was just me and my flatmate who were drinking. We paced ourselves as the drink hit us. We drank two more shots each over the next quarter-hour while we chatted. I looked over at the bar, and there was the waitress from the restaurant. She seemed unaccompanied. On the pretext of getting another bottle, I left the table and made my way over.
"Do they serve better alcohol here than your restaurant?" I asked, sitting down.
She smiled at me. Without the apron on, her dress looked even better on her. It hugged her tight and rode up her legs as she crossed them.
"The boss keeps it locked up. For diners only, he tells us. If it were up to him, he'd keep the bar service open till the last bottle was sold." she replied.
Just wish I could be the one to order the last one and you'd still be around to pour it for me, I thought to myself.
"Hey, thanks for suggesting the lager earlier. It went beautifully with the food." I said.
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Now I know what drink to order in a Korean restaurant without feeling awkward."
"My pleasure. I know the feeling."
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure."
I asked the bartender to bring us two of what my companion was having.
"I never did get your name." I said as we waited for the drinks to be served.
"Su-jin. But everyone calls me Sue."
I raised my glass to hers.
"To Korean lager, and to having bosses who aren't tight-arsed."
She laughed and we started talking. Sue was from South Korea, but had migrated five-thousand miles away to this city, about seven years ago. She got herself a degree a couple of years ago and secured a job as a personal assistant to the MOMA curator. But on some nights like this one, she helped out at her aunt's restaurant.
"Hold on, so your manager at the restaurant is actually your aunt?" I asked.
