Sparks of Intellect! Pop Tarts and the Escalator to Hell

Being able to live in South Korea was a real treat. Getting to go to the one of the largest malls in the world? Even better. Getting lost? Getting beat up? Trying to buy Pop Tarts? Not so much........

Firstly I have to apologize, I am allotted by the universe only so much creativity a day, and I have used most of it on this most intriguing title. Admit it, you found it at the very least tolerable, if not the coolest title ever. So it with much sorrowful trepidation and brain searchings of my brain that I apologize. I don’t have a clue how to begin this tale.

            I guess the best thing to be done is bang on the keys for a while and just see what kind of mood my fingers are in today.

It would seem that they are in good spirits, and will allow me to continue. For Now.

            This tale is in fact based in truth. It happened to me and a pal of mine during our time in South Korea with the US Army as the backdrop.

Now South Koreans are very nice people, and despite the small size of the country, the cities are breathtaking. Driving in to Seoul, one can look across the Han River and see wonders of modern civilization. Apartment complexes, office buildings, and, of course, the COEX Mall.  Which right now will be our main focus.

               COEX Mall is an underground shopping mall located in Gangnam-gu Seoul, South Korea. It is Asia's largest underground shopping mall.

 Along with hundreds of shops, the mall houses two food courts, a 16-screen multi-cinema complex, the COEX Aquarium, a large bookstore, and the Kimchi Field Museum (Kimchi’s gross by the way. It’s lettuce that has been buried in the dirt until it begins to rot, then dug up and served…mmmmmm). It also features a game area which is used to film computer game tournaments, which are broadcast on local television. There are also stages inside and outside the mall for seasonal events and public appearances by celebrities.

Ok, now that you have an idea of what Im talking about, let me get to it. Me and a buddy of mine, his name was Jackson, decided one weekend to go to Seoul and shop around, see the sights. We boarded a bus on post which drove us the 2 hours to Seoul. From there we boarded a subway which, according to the map and the homeless man that pointed randomly around when we asked, took us directly under the Mall.

Everything was going great. We got to the terminal, exited, and took an escalator up into the mall. We found a shop that sold drinks, where Jackson purchased a very large bottle of soda.  I was surprised at how HUGE this place was. Stores upon stores, a movie theatre that would put Spielberg to shame and so many people. Lots of people. They crowded in everywhere, pushing and jostling. We figured it was because we were still too close to the subway, so we decided to keep going up into the building.

Well, we were right. The higher we went, the more the crowds diminished. So we wandered, aimless, unaware of where we were going. We were nomadic. And it was awesome.

Then the unthinkable happened. Jackson had finished his soda. He turned to me slowly.

"Dude." he says.

"What?"

"I have to pee." He shuffled his feet.

"Okay," I answered, looking at a camera in the electronics dept. "I'm not your mother, just go."

 

He looked around expectantly, then despairingly, then began to dance from foot to foot.

"I cant. I don't know where the bathroom is, and I need you to come with me. Its not smart for us to seperate in here."

 

SIGH

"Well, there was a bathroom in the subway station when we came in, lets try that one."

       

    So began our journey to find the subway station, and the bathroom, which Jackson needed very badly. He hopped and squirmed like a frog on a hotplate. Now directionally, our reasoning was sound. Subway. SUB being the key word. Sub, underground, go down. Good, makes sense, let's do it, hooray, lets go.

We were so very wrong.

We found the first escalator going down, and took it. Every time we got to the next lower floor, however, we would find another downward escalator. So we would take that one, and another, and another. This gradual drop went on for about 45 minutes. Down and down. The escaltor to hell seemed unending. I guess an elevator would have been smart to look for, but we were already commited, and neither of us wanted to lose the escalator in trying to find an elevator.

Jackson was about to explode. Could not contain himself. We had to find a bathroom quick. Two more flights down, the escalators stopped. We looked around. This was not the subway. It was a parking garage. We had most definatly taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque.

"Look! There's one!' Cried Jackson, running in the same direction.

It was a bathroom. Jackson ran in and I heard the stall slam. Then a huge sigh of relief. I was hot and sweaty so I stood at the sink and washed my face. I stood, and took a towel from the dispenser. Drying my face I looked into the mirror and made what I believe was a very astute observation.

"Hey, Jack?," I called out.

"Yea?" He answered.

"I just noticed there are no urinals in here."

"So?," Jackson stated, "Maybe its just the way they are here. Maybe they don't have them in all the bathrooms over here."

"Erm-," I said, "Then why is there a tampon machine in here?"

       

    I had almost peiced it all together. It was when I noticed the old lady coming out tof the furthest stall that I all became clear. She was a tiny Korean lady, small and bent, like a Korean gypsy grandmother from a russian tale where all the women wear scarves on their heads and carry lead pipes in their purses.

Oh, you mean they don't carry lead pipes? My mistake. That must have just been my perception of things when she started beating me about the head and shoulder with her bag!

Jackson came out of the stall and saw me getting beaten by an old woman. He laughed at me, and that, Kharmatically, drew her attention to him. She must have been both scared and surprised to see two of us in the ladies room (who could blame her) and she began screaming at the top of her lungs, yelling in Korean what I assume were obscenities, and beating us both mercilessly with her purse. I was genuinly stunned at her vitality! Here were the two of us, combat trained soldiers of the Greatest country in the World. We have weapons training, hand to hand combat training, yet here we were, in ladies bathroom in a parking garage in the middle of South Korea, getting our asses handed to us by one old lady and her handbag. We were chased out of the bathroom, into the empty echoing of the lot, where she delivered one last blow to the back of my head, and ran off in the opposite direction, still screaming.

We decided it was time to leave.

After wandering the garage for half an hour, we still had not found the exit. I was gaining a very bad headache from my beatdown, and my back and shoulders ached from the same. At last, I saw a truck with a rather large bed. I motioned to Jackson and we ran, caught it and jumped in the back. Traffic Laws are quite different in Korea, they exist, but they are like the rules to monopoly, everyone ignores them and makes up their own. He took us out, and up the road aways, where we jumped out and landed painfully on the side of the road. It may not have helped that he was doing 30mph at the time.

Even more bruised, but not defeated, we continued our questing....for while in the back of the truck, I had developed a very intense craving for Blueberry Pop Tarts. Why? Mainly because they are the holy grail of pop-tarts. Very hard to find, and too good to keep. Plus I was hungry.

We stopped in at a grocery store called E-mart. It's like a walmart, if it was clean, well staffed, stocked and well organized. The store wasn't too busy, except for a few folks milling about, and a Korean sample girl near the milk isle giving shots of whatever was in her little cups. I still don't know. It tasted like melted glue, if that's even possible.

Anyway, Jackson starts chatting it up with the sample girl (hes using a lot of hand signs and talking real loud, because we all know that never helps, but we do it anyway), and I spot a stockman stocking veggies.

"Excuse me.." I say. He doesn't answer.

"Excuse me..?" He hears me and turns. He smiles grandly and bows slightly.

"I'm looking for Pop Tarts"

Cow Stare.......

"Pop Tarts" I repeated.

Cow stare......

"POOOOOOPPPP TAA-" I tried to say but was cut off.

"AHH!, " the stockman exclaimed, "poop. Bathroom over there." He turned back to his veggies.

"No," I told him, "not poop, 'POP'" I made a happy popping noise and hand gestures to represent pop (as best one can, you try if your so smart). I must have looked a fool.

"Yes," the stockman said, "very happy! Go bathroom, make happy poop!"

Facepalm

"No," I told him again, "Like breakfast."

I made eating motions like I was eating the most wonderful thing in the world. Then I made the happy 'POP' noise and gesture again.

The stockman scowled and looked horribly disgusted. He pointed to the bathroom and turned away.  He would not talk to me any further. Jackson came up beside holding a piece of paper. I stood dumbfounded over what just happened. The stockman continued to glare at us over his shoulder, no longer smiling.

“I got her number.” He says proudly.

“Who?” I asked.

“Sample Chick. I got one for you too.” He handed me a piece of paper.

            I turned and looked at sample chick, who smiled at me and waved. I turned back to the stockman. Jackson noticed his growl-

“Man, what’s that dudes’ problem?”

I looked solemly down at the ground.

“Pop Tarts is just one of those phrases that doesn’t translate well.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I tried 3 times, and by the time I was done, this poor guy thinks I have super happy breakfast poops.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “Lets just head home.”

            So we went home tart-less, bruised, and saddened, but enlightened with the knowledge that “POP-TARTS” does not translate AT ALL.

 

 

THE END