This is not my Tale from the Club, but it is so excellent and unique in its nature that I found it imperative that I share it with you. A Pretty Sunday had the most interesting almost-run-in with Yellow Fever, and then she ended up gaining a bodyguard. Hilar. Read the entire story here.
We started to talk, and he asked me what ethnicity I was. I said, “I’m half-Korean and…” and before I could say what the other half was, he interrupted me.
“I LOVE KOREANS. I knew you were Korean. I love Koreans.” His voice was booming, even in a loud Vegas nightclub.
I was a little stunned, a little annoyed, a little confused. He must have yellow fever. But he continued, explaining that he lived in Korea for two years and has a lot of Korean friends, and then he spit out a few phrases in Korean, to which I shrugged my shoulders because I don’t know much more than “hello” and “how much is this?” in Korean. After a little more talk about his Korea life, he busted out his camera and showed me photos of him and his Korean friends. Not just women, but men, old people and children too. Like a stamp collection. “See? See?” as he pointed out each Korean in each photo, as if I couldn’t tell which one they were out of the Asian person and the 7 ft tall black person on the LCD screen.
Kind of bored, but kind of fascinated at how he was so enthused about this topic, I felt the way an adult feels when a kindergartner shows them their pokemon collection. He looked at me as I nodded. “You’re SO CUTE!” he almost yelled at me, and scrunched his nose. “Thanks?” I said back. What does one say to a huge man in a nightclub that is looking at me more like he wanted to make a stuffed animal out of me than he wanted to get my number?
Then, he did it. He pinched my cheek. “You’re soooooo cute!” He scrunched his nose up again. His hands were so big that it hurt a little, but I was more bewildered than angry. He asked if we could take a picture together. Normally I would probably deny this proposal, but since this was such a “unique” situation, I thought what the hell, and obliged. His friend took the photo, and I put on a smile as he wrapped his gigantor arm around my shoulder. “Koreans love me,” he said. “And I love Koreans!”
Catch the surprise ending at A Pretty Sunday.
Vegas. Who knew?