It all started completely randomly, my dad deciding to take the family on another random adventure, much like he did many times before. Although each time is different, and we never travel to the same place twice (Outside of the US anyway) the typical formula (if you can call it that) for our trip goes something like this.
My dad walks in, and announces “We’re going to *insert random obscure country here*! We leave *within the month*, and we’ll be back *anywhere from 8 to 12 days later*. We never really got much input, when he was determined to do this, there wasn’t much to change his mind. We’d leave on schedule and have the most random things occur, along with a few unfortunate incidences at the airport here and there, but really nothing that remarkable. At least not for someone who’s seen every continent besides Antarctica at least once. (I’ve actually been to Europe 5 times.)
Now, as the trip was approaching, I’ll admit I wasn’t looking forward to it. I was more than a little worried about my current girlfriend, whom needed too much attention and had some emotional problems. Much like the typical Sage Kid. I was afraid that if she didn’t have me to fall back on after a few weeks that she would do something drastic and stupid. Which she often did anyway.
My parents wouldn’t hear it, and so we left and that was that. We flew first to California for a day, and spent the night there. Not bad, a 5 and a half hour flight. Not terrible anyway. We flew through a thunderstorm, and I enjoyed watching my mom panic and nearly have a heart attack, as she wasn’t nearly the experienced flyer that my dad and I were. The next day we’re up at the crack of dawn and board our flight to South Korea. A 19 hour flight. Joy.
Now, I’d like to tell you that the flight went well, was uneventful, and was smooth the whole way.
Of course, I’d be lying. The ENTIRE 19 hours there was a baby screaming a few rows away (We flew on a 747, and to those who aren’t aircraft educated a 747 is the Titanic of commercial planes. It has 4 rows across in the business class, and 2 stories, with game boys built into the seats in first class and hot meals served.) Now when I say screaming, it wasn’t just crying it was screaming louder then Buff with a megaphone after he hasn’t eaten in 2 days.
If that weren’t enough… I had the misfortune of eating the part of the meal called “Kim Chi.” Now, much to what I’m sure is everyones chagrin and horror, Kim Chi is a Korean dish that is basically pickled cabbage that was buried under the Earth for 6 months, dug up, and served cold. Bon Appétit.
So around hour 12 the Kim Chi decides to play rugby with antipersonnel mines inside my digestive system. At first, I started overheating and fidgeting, just general discomfort. My temperature was around 104 at its worst, and of course let’s not forget the headache and blurry vision that accompanied it. Check the clock. 7 hours left. F***.
Somehow, by the grace of whatever Korean god of fortitude, bravery, and upset stomachs that was looking over me, I managed to make it all the way to the airport before I tossed my cookies. I managed to run through the terminal and out of the plane fast enough to attract security, and of course they had a good laugh at the short scrawny white boy getting sick in the bathroom. I turned to them and managed to mutter “Kim Chi” to which they laughed all the harder. Threat averted, they returned to whatever it is Korean airport security does in their spare time. So. From South Korea, we got off the 19 hour plane ride and took a 7 hour plane into Singapore. Thankfully, I managed to sleep this plane ride there, and we made it to where we were staying (my dad’s friends abandoned apartment.) without further incident.
Maybe someday I’ll get around to finishing the rest of this memoir, but for now I think that’s a little too much to cover in one episode.
