The Send Off

August 15, 2010 – The Ride To

Before I leave my parents’ house I leave a huge mess in my room.  I didn’t think it was so bad, but on the drive to SFO, at 7am, my parents tell me I had disrespected them by leaving the mess.  This makes me feel like garbage.  I feel even worse because I didn’t mean to disrespect my parents—that was the last of my intentions.  I close my eyes in the backseat and remember my disorganized room: a hodgepodge of art supplies, clothes I couldn’t pack, countless books, and random odds and ends.  I remain quiet in the car ride, ashamed, until we pass Sunnyvale when my parents interrupt the silence and tell me not to think about the mess—you’re about to go to South Korea!  But I’m such a mess though, I think, how am I about to go to a foreign country?  As we park and walk through the still parking lot my mind is buzzing with apprehension and curiosity; I’m still pissed at myself for the mess I left in my room. 

I have breakfast with my parents at SFO, we talk about the night before and the people we saw at Bernie’s birthday dinner.

“Did you see Chloe and Aliza?” someone asks me.

“I did.”

“They’re so cute and growing up so fast!  Did you see your cousins Alex and Lindsay?”

“I did.”

“I think the last time you saw them was at their wedding, right?”

I excuse myself after answering and head to the bathroom to squeeze out a piss I don’t need to take.  The conversation is idle and of good intention but I’m already in a place I don’t know anything about: South Korea.  My mind is already in Korea, the money in my pocket is Korean too, and I want to fast forward to Incheon airport, go through customs, and just get to work.  The longer I spend with my parents the more it hurts.  It being the distance, the inability to call after a crappy day at work, the unrealistic likelihood of me coming home for the holidays.  I wash my hands, come back to sit with my parents, and our simple conversation covers up what our eyes are telling each other: I love you so much, I already miss you—be safe, call us when you can.

 It’s a quarter to 10am, I’m feeling antsy, so I tell my parents it’s time for me to board my plane (my plane leaves at 11am).  I’m nearly in the security line when I turn to my parents for the finale: the send off.

“Well,” my mother sputters, holding back the gushing emotions as best she can.

 “I said I wouldn’t cry…but I’m gonna do it anyway.” 

We both laugh and I’m glad she lets a couple tears go.  (My mom kept her composure, even though I teased her that she might cry.)  My dad smiles at me and in a shaky voice he tells me,

 “Alright, have fun, be safe—remember you’re in a foreign country.”

I give my kisses, my farewells, head towards security and my mother calls out, “Make us proud!”  They disappear in the crowd behind me and head to my dad’s truck…12 months until Billy comes home.

The security line is fast.  I stop in the duty free quickly, step out convinced that Chivas will be cheaper on the plane (which it isn’t, it costs the same on the plane), and I head to gate 94.

At the gate I meet my travelling partner (we’ll call him Otto).  He’s been flying all morning, from New York to California, and he left his iPhone in New York.  Otto’s off to a bad start, but I try to cheer him up; we’re going to be working together and this is going to be the only person I know in South Korea for awhile.  Otto’s from North Carolina, the drawl is subdued but I notice it still.  Promptly at 11 we board the jet and I go to my aisle seat, 38C.

The bird’s packed.  At the window seat opposite me is a reserved American with glasses; he doesn’t say more than 10 words the whole ride.  Near the end of the trip I notice he’s clutching his belly in pain.  When I ask him what’s wrong, he tells me he has some kind of food illness and I can smell it afterwards.  (I’m only half grossed out, after all, my nickname was “Fartman” in elementary school.)  I am concerned though that he’s going to puke on me; I look back at Otto behind me, hoping for one of those expressions like, what can you do, it’s a plane ride.  But, he’s passed out with his BOSE noise-proof headphones on, sleep well Otto.

Between myself and the ill guy with glasses, potentially my vomit shield, there is a young Korean boy who sleeps the entire flight (he wakes one time to eat the first lunch and then sleeps the rest of the way).  Most everyone on the flight is Korean, I assume, and we’re served two lunches.  Stewardesses constantly walk by offering water which I gladly accept (I gotta stay hydrated to fight off whatever the guy by the window seat’s got).  I watch Iron Man 2 and decide not to watch any other movies after it’s over: the movie left the bad taste in my mouth, not the airplane food.  I read, do a crossword puzzle, and wonder about my future.  I think about my family and I’m grateful.

It’s an airplane ride so it’s about as comfortable as sitting in a cardboard box, with a seat belt, for 10 hours, but the saving grace is that there is a good looking brunette sitting in front of me.  She’s pretty, she looks to be my age, and I want to ask her if she’s going to be teaching English too.  I want someone to talk to me, I think, I want someone to make me feel less like a mess and more like a—oh shit…  This girl brought her cat with her from the U.S.!?  In the space where your feet are supposed to be, the brunette has a cat travelling crate…cat included (and I know it’s a cat because I hear it meowing when she feeds it).  So I realize that this girl and I will actually have nothing in common and despite her good looks I’ll tough it out until Korea, besides I’m sure Otto will cheer up after the iPhone loss wears off.  And, of course, until we land I’m doing nothing but blowing my nose, allergies full power!  Here comes Billy, Korea, stuffed nose and all.  What a mess…

Prelude

Keeping a journal and doing laundry are the two ways I relax.  My relaxation techniques originated from my parents, who I dedicate this blog to.  My mother gave me a green spiral notebook in middle school and said to me, “Billy, you need to write when you are unhappy,” (because we knew that if I didn’t find a way to calm down the alternative was a life of prescription drugs.)  In middle school I realized the world was not kind, the media never told the good news, and I was beginning to develop a heightened sense of anxiety & paranoia.  Since then I have been writing prodigiously and as it turns out: the world is the same, the media is the same, so Shabbat shalom.  And as for my father and the laundry: it’s his “thing” and it became my “thing” too.  Every day he did one or two loads and always in cold water (to the chagrin of all the girls in my family.)  For years I was oblivious to how lucky I was, since I had friends as young as 13 doing their own laundry and I never did; however, when I went off to college, and cleaned my own clothes, I found laundry to be my “thing” too.  For an hour or two, each week, it was my time to clean the recent past away, whether it was good or bad, dry my clothes and come to terms with my life as it is, then fold…I always use cold water too.  You will see me at my most calm and relaxed with a load of whites in the drier, tapping away on the keys of my laptop, and a cup of tea nearby.

So right now I’ve got the clothes hanging in my laundry room, the cup of green tea to my left, and, in front of me, the preparation of my first blog entry for what I’ve labeled “All Aboard the Little Wolf Express”.  When I chose the name of the blog, “All Aboard…” I thought of a train, conducted by me.  From the head car I would yell out, “All aboard!” and welcome any travelers that wanted to ride with me.  So, when you read this blog imagine that you are NOT reading a blog, but actually travelling with me on my life vessel: the Little Wolf Express…

The Little Wolf Express began in Northern California and the locomotive eventually led me to Southern California, Orange County, where I went to college, UC Irvine.  Afterwards I found myself distant from the Little Wolf Express: I was frustrated because I wasn’t really going anywhere anymore.  I was having trouble getting started as a writer, my art was garbage, and my freestyles were not straight and didn’t rhyme.  I was disinterested in graduate school and needed money, so I started working.  That’s what you do after college, I thought, you went to college, then you get a good job, and everything else eventually falls into place: wife, family, car, house…  But, after graduating I was poor and lacking the “good job” I assumed was waiting for me.  I moved in with some friends who lived in 3-bedroom apartment in Tustin; I was getting ready to move back home with my parents, feeling defeated.  I was listless, sad, not writing.  During the warm nights I would stay up late (I always stay up late) and I would hear the whistle of the 11pm train and think to myself, yup, that’s the Little Wolf Express calling out to me, “c’mon, let’s go, it’s not over—in fact, it hasn’t even begun!”  Tossing the despair aside, I packed my bags, found a job in Korea teaching English, and took the Little Wolf Express, one-way, to Suwon, South Korea, where I currently reside.

And here we are, together: you, me, and the Little Wolf Express.  I will share my adventures, my fears, my stories, my ideas, my hopes, my dreams and even my nightmares.  The ticket to board this train costs only what your attention can provide (so right from the start I know some of my friends won’t even have gotten this far); as for the others perks: it has free laundry service and complimentary tea.  I’ll be your faithful narrator, tour guide, and train conductor…All aboard and please enjoy.

(A few notes: I’ll be changing names of people I meet, so I can be a bit more honest, and I’ll try to update you on the progress of the Little Wolf Express as often as I can.  I’ll try not to embellish or exaggerate to keep my experience true-to-life.  If you’re looking for a guide to teaching ESL abroad or freelance journalism than you may want to look someplace else, because this is an egocentric journal (but, I’ll do my best to include tips/advice for people who want to do ESL abroad and, in general, I stay politically involved and engaged so there may be some political writings periodically.))