I woke up and the hotel room smelled like a cigarette. It wasn't a crisp cigarette smell. It was a stale, old lady cigarette smell. Not like an old lady, but more an old lady's house, and the old lady's been smoking for the last hundred years. I started to picture it. Her walls are yellow because of the smoke. She's makin eggs with a wrinkly cig hangin out of her wrinkly mouth and she's sayin "extra bacon for YOU, toots," and her bathrobe that she stole from a hotel in Bangor in the 1970s is hangin off her bony arms and the bacon fat is poppin and hissin and she puckers her lips and the cig falls out and lands right there in the pan, spreadin the ashes like pepper, all over the bacon...
"Doubleyoo-tee-eff are you talkin about?" stammered Rita, still half asleep. Rita's my friend. Not my girlfriend. I'll probably end up marrying her someday, though. We travel together. She's cool.
"It smells like stale cigarettes," I said.
"We were SMOKING last night. That's why it smells like smoke. Go back to bed. We're in Korea."
"OhhhKAY, Rita. Jeezus." She may have been right. We had been smoking (see picture). And we were definitely in Korea. I put on my sunglasses and walked over to the window. Thank God I didn't have a hangover. I cracked the blinds and looked out the window at about a hundred high-rise apartment buildings through the haze. So that's how they get 11 million people into a city.
We had gotten into Seoul at 1AM, and we took a bus, found a taxi, had a couple drinks, and went to sleep. This was our first day in Korea and Rita and I were ready to do it. Not that, pervs. Like traveling and shit.
