Adventures in Agashi Land

So.

The "Agashis."

First off, let me give a brief disclaimer: I'm not actually sure if it's agashi or adashi, or some other word sort of like that. A brief google search tells me that "agashi" means "lady" so I'm guessing that's the right one. Bear with me if you want to find out why..

The Agashis. There are a lot of them.

And by 'them' I mean super wasted middle-aged to old men.

Oh, hey, is it 8 o'clock? Are you trying to go to the grocery store in peace like a normal person? Agashis.

Are you trying to ride a bus? Agashis.

Buy a latte? Agashis.

Walk the 100 feet home from work? Agashis.

They. Are. EVERYWHERE.

I don't think I included 8 am on the list of places

to find them, but there you have it. 

And generally they're quite harmless.

I was told when I arrived about these charming gentlemen, and was told they are called "Agashis." I now suspect that that's just what they call them because that's what they say when we walk by.

I guess it's the equivalent of a bunch of drunk old guys saying "Laaaaaaadiiiiiiies" whenever you walk by, which is weird, but what are you gonna do.

Anyways, they're mildly annoying but harmless, OR SO I THOUGHT!!!!!!

Dun dun dunnnnn...

Soooo me and some friends went into Seoul for dinner one night, and on the super cozy bus ride back, we were all jammed in randomly throughout the bus next to strangers. My seat mate was some like 30-year-old dude trying to read his graphic novel in peace. 

Ride goes smoothly, until the King of All Agashis boards the bus. 

His suit is crumpled, his comb over in disarray, and he just stumbles up the stairs. He barely makes the top one and falls face first straight at the fare box. The whole bus gasps but he manages to catch himself right before his free nose job.

Good sign #1.

He staggers down the aisle and all kinds of people are leaping out of their seats so he can sit down.

Respecting elderly people is a huuuge part of Korean culture, so that would've happened anyways, but since this guy was hardly in any condition to be breathing, let alone standing, it was a mad rush. 

The guy in the row in front of me manages to engage the guy in a conversation about sitting down but the guy refuses.

It is at this point that I catch the first enormous whiff of soju.

Good sign #2. 

This guy is seriously smelly and is standing directly next to me in the aisle. He's clutching one of the aisle handholds for dear life, but is still swaying like Galloping Gertie. (See video below if you don't get that one. It's a bridge joke. HA!)

Anyways this guy cannot stand up to save his life. He's stumbling all over the place, and I notice that he's no longer talking to the guy in front of me, the one who tried to give up his seat. He's not actually talking at all.

He's singing.

Good sign #3

So, he's singing, and swaying, and smelling like a soju factory. If anyone was wondering, soju smells just like vodka. Distinctive. And unpleasant. 

And don't think for a second that this guy is swaying in time to the music. Nuh uh. This is verge-of-unconciousness swaying. 

This is when I realize-- Oh my God. He's going to hurl. 

He. Is. Going. To. Vomit.

ON ME.

Panic mode commence. 

Literally, I fold my hands in my lap and stare at the clock at the front of the bus and just count to 100 over and over.

Over. And over. Do you know how many times you can count to 100 in 20 minutes? A lot.

The swaying has gotten so bad that the guy is all but in my lap. 

Oh, and did I mention that he's facing me? So by "in my lap" I really mean "his grody old man crotch was swaying perilously near my business". 

YEAH.

After 17 minutes of this nonsense, he actually does fall into the lap of the guy who tried to give him a seat originally, but still refuses to sit. 

Good sign # however many. 

It's at this point that I break my vigil of trying not to punch this guy in the face and manhandle him into a dang chair (Korean culture and all that, it wouldn't have been appropriate) that I finally look up at my friends.

Like the dear, dear friends that they are, they've noticed my predicament. And are giggling madly to themselves about it. 

I, of course, finally realize how absurd this entire situation is and am now simultaneously trying not to wrangle the King of the Agashis and laugh in his 'respectable' old man face. 

Ruh. Roh. 

Finally, the guy next to me ends up getting off the bus and I jump up out of that seat before the Agashi can try to scooch over me to take the window seat. He sits, and tries to get me to sit next to him. 

HECK TO THE NO.

Thank God I don't speak Korean. I just sort of vaguely half-smiled and looked out the other side of the bus. 

The guy's sitting, still smelling, still singing, and now takes out a wad of cash from his breast pocket and starts counting it over and over (53,000 won, if you were wondering). He's mumbling something, which was later translated as "Where are we going? Where am I? How did I get here? This is so weird..."

Which, frankly, is astonishing. He seemed in full control of his mental faculties...............................................

I can't even. Just... Just no. 

Literally I sat being tortured by this crazy person for 45 minutes. 

Longest bus ride ever?

I think so.