I miss you. I miss your taste. I miss the way you felt in my hands. I miss your long brown neck. I miss the way the sweat beaded on you and slowly dripped off, pooling on the bar.*
Bells. (Oh Bells….my firstborn shall be named Two-Hearted.)
God, I could go on, but it’s just too painful. There is no beer in South Korea worth drinking. To be sure, there are beverages passed off as beer: Cass, Hite, OB, Max. But those are like drinking embalming fluid, only you would actually get a buzz off embalming fluid, and you’d probably taste it. (I’m not the only one that feels this way…)
After college, I swore off bad beer. No more Keystone Light for me, thank you very much. I dedicated myself to the consumption of stuff that tasted decent. And I was a solid, thorough student. Lord, was I. What? An ABV under 7%? You must be joking. The darker, the stronger, the frothier the better. I was in my stride, I was peaking, when I moved here.
But obviously the last few months have been different. Dry. It’s hard to hit the bars knowing that all I’ve got to look forward to is a warm OB followed (after the first half a glass or so) by the mysterious feeling that someone just punched me in the stomach. And then of course there’s the hangover to anticipate, which I can’t even think of “hair of the dog”-ing away. Somethings are just too horrible to consider.
A few of you might think this is a really small thing to bitch about. A few of you might think I need to reconsider where my priorities lay. But the rest of you know where I’m coming from. It’s not about getting drunk – (entirely…) – it’s about the pleasure in drinking something that tastes good and unusual with a bunch of like-minded people. Korea, I just want my God-given right to drink outrageously priced draft ales!
*yes, i know that sexualizing alcohol is a sign of a larger problem. don’t worry, i’m in korea, nature’s rehab. No 12-step literature, please.