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@ChuckWendig Well, I played sax with some local jazz musicians at a jazz bar in a small town in rural S. Korea. The owner was (a) a former mobster and (b) an admin at the local university. Kept trying to be my buddy. Was obsessed with jazz. Spoke very little English tho he'd lived in Chicago.Permalink On twitter.com
Mood +2 🙂
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@ChuckWendig I soon learned, after meeting his army buddies, that nobody could understand him when he spoke in Korean, either. I started playing with them a few weeks after I arrived, he wanted to pay me cash (but I refused, as I feared I'd violate my visa) so he paid me in meals and booze.Permalink On twitter.com
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@ChuckWendig He referred to his employees as his "sons" and "daughters"; ordered his sons to drive me home after gigs, and one "son" kept trying to arrange for a "girlfriend" for me. "I don't really speak Korean," I protested. "No need," the 'son' insisted.On twitter.com
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@ChuckWendig I experienced so many firsts there: being hit on by a (much) older woman; being (unwelcomely) groped by a man; being told I was crazy for thinking a man groping me was a gay man making a pass at me. The band was great, though. They all hated the owner.Permalink On twitter.com
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@ChuckWendig In the end, the old guy refused to tune the piano, so the band ultimately decided to quit, and he couldn't find anyone to replace them. They were from an arts college town maybe 20 min away, and I didn't have their contacts, so I never saw them (or the club) again.Permalink On twitter.com