night on the town, or, my esophagus burns

i had an 8.30 phone interview this morning. i was hanging out with friends last night, but i assured myself i would go home early, get some sleep, and wake up refreshed for my interview. and now, the tale of what actually happened:

i had dinner plans with haeri, yutaka, and kouhei. haeri is my japanese-speaking korean friend, and yutaka and kouhei are two cool japanese guys i met through the grandmaster of expensive lounging sessions at the izakaya, my friend from osaka, tsuyoshi. first we went to eat ethiopian food in the lower east side. i managed to impress them by seizing the first scoop of lentils with a fistful of injera. everyone but me was startled at the lack of tableware, and all enjoyed the honey wine. the food was mediocre compared to other places i've been to, but we all managed to have a great time thanks to yutaka's attention deficiency, kouhei's kyoto-dialect antics, haeri's penchant for commenting frequently on both, and my desire to try and explain topics ranging from ethiopian cuisine to racial discrimination in the u.s. we also had a blast talking about the waitress in japanese, especially when she kept bothering us and asking rhetorical questions like: "how's the food?" i mean, i know it's her job and all, but really.

we then sojourned to a really mellow and dimly-lit bar slash lounge i like to go to, the musical box in alphabet city. they play a good mix of indie and hard rock, and the lounge in the back has awesome vintage couches and a billiard table, albeit one that requires a deposit of a buck fifty. as i type this i realize this place is sounding more and more like a premium hipster venue, but i can assure my readers that if just one hipster were to have stuck his feathered derby into the bar, i would've left on protest.

after spending some quality time and taking some silly photos (what is it with east asians and silly photos), haeri demanded we all go to k-town and drink soju.

now, usually when this is suggested it is only after everyone has drunken a reasonable amount, because no one goes drinking in k-town sober. and everyone knows that soju is an extremely reactive substance that, when mixed with stomach juices and resident alcohol, has been known to result in EVIL, and sometimes DEATH.

also, a little-known fact: although soju tastes like watered-down methanol, koreans insist that once the drinking of it has been undertaken, it shall not cease until everyone is horribly drunk. we played all sorts of drinking games: japanese favorites like gyuutan (the cow tongue game), and korean ones like flick-the-twisty-thing-off-the-soju-bottle-cap game (the korean expression escapes me). as the night wore on, yutaka's attempts at speaking korean to the waitress became more and more successful, and kouhei became more and more hesitant to drink more soju, often offering us his flailing arms as defense. unfortunately for me, i put up no such defense.

and then the glorious ride home on my old friend the f train. i suddenly woke up while still somewhere in manhattan and felt the soju rumbling in my stomach, screaming for its release. i had no choice but to abide. the man sitting in front of me sprang up like clockwork and dashed to the other side of the car, as if he'd been trained to respond to such emergencies. the next time i woke up i was at sutphin blvd, and just in time for my interview. i gave myself a quick tour of that part of jamaica, got a deli coffee, and retired to the quietest spot available: a collective driveway strip nestled in the middle of a block of houses.

i was surprisingly talkative on the phone, despite my unsightly condition and questionable body chemistry. not to mention my sore esophagus. but lucky for me my tongue was working just fine, and i managed to dish out lots of impressive expressions, like: "oh, i see" and "and as for the salary and benefits?".

and thus ended my adventure. i just hope everyone else got home okay.