Because Sometimes Even Drunken Idiots Go Too Far

When I was awaken by the phone at four in the morning, I wasn't that surprised. Sometimes people back home don't remember that I'm fourteen hours ahead and get the urge to call at two in the afternoon. But when the voice on the other end was Korean, I was a little taken back.

"Chris lives there?" the voice asked.

"Yes," I said, half asleep and now a little pissed.

"He had too much to drink. He needs a cab. Where do you live?"

"Nam Seon gong won," I said.

"Nam Seon gong won. Ne. Roma Villa?" He asked. Chris must have at least gotten out that much. When I told him that was correct, he added, "Please wait for him there. Someone needs to wait for him."

I took a moment to think about my options. My bed looked really nice while half asleep. And the thought of Chris drunkenly wondering the streets at four in the morning didn't bother me too much.

This wasn't the first time that Chris had drank too much. There was, of course, his first weekend in Korea, when he tried to hit on every woman in the bar and ended the night dancing like an idiot in a circle of Korean men at Daejon's nortorious hang out for gay men. Then there was the time his first month in Korea that he got sloppy drunk on a school night and missed a field trip (and the time he did the same thing a month later). Or the time he came home at six in the morning, poured himself a big bowl of salsa, opened a bag of chips and then passed out perfectly balanced in the chair without touching his tiny feast. Hell, there's a story from every weekend, and usually I just look the other way.

I had looked the other way many times when I sat on my bed and thought about going back to sleep after the phone call. I had pretty much decided to go back to sleep when the phone rang again. The Korean voice answered again.

"The taxi just left," the voice said. "but the driving didn't know Roma Villa. Can you wait for Chris at Nam Seon Gong Won?" I reluctantly agreed and got dressed.

On my walk up to the park, I thought of what I was going to do. "Oolay roommate babo emneda," I'd say to the taxi driver. "mianamneda." My roomate is crazy. I'm sorry.

I thought of just leaving him once he got out of the taxi. I thought of bringing him home but just dropping him on the floor. And if I had to pay his damn taxi fare, I was getting it back with interest in the morning.

As I was thinking these things, the taxi pulled up to the park and kept going. I ran after it waving my arms. Somehow the taxi driver discovered the way to my apartment, because I chased after all the way back to my apartment building (which is nearly half a mile). I was amazed that I kept up.

When I came up on the taxi, Chris was paying and just getting out.

"Hey," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"Some guy called me and told me to make sure you got upstairs okay," I said.

"That guy called you. That's the guy that called you," and he pointed at what I thought was the taxi.

"The taxi driver called me?"

"No," he said, "That guy," and he pointed at a car just passing by. I'll probably never know if that was drunk talk or if the guy that called actually did drive by to check up on Chris. If he did drive by, I have to wonder why he bothered to call the taxi, but still drove all the way to our house himself.

I didn't bother to say anything more to him and just went upstairs. He made it to the doorway (wobblingly) but had to hold onto the frame for a minute or so before taking off his shoes.

As I got ready to go back to bed again, I heard him banging around. I waited to go to bed until the banging finally stopped meaning that he was in bed...or that he passed out somewhere in the apartment.

About an hour later, I woke up to the sound of running water...or what I thought was running water. I opened the door to find a horrific sight: Chris was in the process of missing the toilet...missing it by an entire room. I yelled at him to stop, but he didn't hear. Didn't matter much anyway; the damage was done. Frustrated, I went back to bed, but obviously couldn't sleep after something so tramatic. I wasn't about to clean up THAT mess.

R