by Filmmkr.
Last night I headed out to Family Mart at 2:30 a.m. for cookies and ice cream, it was just one of those days where I didn’t want to be social. thankyouverymuch.
As I was poking through the ice cream, two young-ish men came in and spent forever getting cigarettes. Waiting in line I wondered briefly if one of them was a student of mine, while marveling they had the appropriate ID for cigarettes and alcohol. (He wasn’t a student, and I don’t think anyone checks IDs.)They left without their cigarettes, thus having to come back in and awkwardly pick them up from the counter before I could pay for my heart-attack inducing snacks.
On the walk back, I hear “Ohh….waygookin….” I ignore them, paying the sweet overnight clerk, who probably thinks I’m the most batshit person for walking in there almost every single night for ice cream, beer and cookies. (I’m a creature of bad habits.) They walk out the door presumably to disappear in the dark wet night.
I step outside and hear, “Hello? Hello? Hi? Hello?” before I could open my umbrella. The smaller one kept saying the words over and over again. Like I couldn’t hear him even though I was responding to each greeting with a “hi” and a smile. Once he finally quiets down long enough to realize he had my attention, he asks where I’m going.
I say I’m going home.
He asks me to come drink soju with them. I have no idea where seeing as Family Mart is the only open establishment at this time of the morning in my dong. I shake my head.
“No, I don’t want to.” I say.
“Wae-oo? Wae?” They both start whining.
“You look young.” I smile trying not to sound like a complete bitch.
“How old? How old? How old?” The smaller one asks. I smile unsure of what he’s trying to ask me and not about to tell him I think they look 19.
“How old are you?” I ask instead.
“I’m very old.” He says puffing out his chest with pride. “I’m 21.”
“Too young for me,” I say. “I don’t want to be a noona.”
“Noona?” The bigger one screeches jumping into the conversation with a load of Korean. I eventually work out he’s asking how old I am.
“I’m 25,” I respond.
“Only four, only four, only four.”
“Too much,” I sigh and turn around to leave.
I turn back and wave goodbye. As they shout after me “goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.”
