In case you've forgotten (because obviously you all know), my birthday is on December 31st, which is New Year's Eve. There's always a party, and 99% of the people in the world don't need to work the next day. Woo hoo! Last column we talked about the preparations for my birthday. Plan changes, annoying dorks, drinks with real Korean gangsters, and late girlfriends all jumbled my special day.
Midnight on my birthday ranks as my favorite part of the night. Since everybody took so long to pretty themselves for me, I worried I might miss my favorite part, the makeout time. Today we find out what happened at the big 12…
It was 11:58 pm and the annoying dude, other dudes, some girls, my girlfriend and I sprinted out of the subway car to the escalators. Oh shit! Koreans usually just stand on the escalators! It's countdown time! 10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! Oh shit! We're still on the escalator…1! Happy New Year!
Shucks, I missed the big time at the bar, but luckily my gorgeous girlfriend stood next to me on the molasses escalator and we did some makey-outy! Koreans generally don't give a damn about New Year's Eve; they celebrate Luna New Year or Chinese New Year (this is the year of the Snake, whatever-the-hell that means). Some nice guy enjoyed watching us and snapped a neat photo of my gang standing next to our New Year's Escalator.
But this is Korea, and the party is just starting at midnight. However, I couldn't remember how to get to the damn bar so I called up a friend who graciously and patiently gave my dumb ass some directions.
Finally, I arrived and people screamed my name, sang "Happy Birthday," gave me a birthday cake with candles, smashed cake in my face, and literally shoved a bottle of Jameson so far down my throat I nearly gagged on the fine Irish whiskey!
After multiple Jager Bombs, Irish Car Bombs, Agua Bombs, and probably a few other bombs, we drank some more. And some more. I would relish the thought of telling you more about the night, but I don't really remember much after I ate some cake and guzzled more Jameson.
Luckily, my friends recall much more than me.
My girlfriend told me I acted very nice, told many people I loved them, and hugged just about everybody twice. In the cab ride, my gf sat between another girl and me. The other girl and I both passed out, and ended up headbutting my poor girlfriend the entire ride home.
Blockbuster, one of my buddies, explained, "I think you and Mean were about the same amount of drunk for a while. Then I tried to hold you both upright for about 30 minutes while we waited for cabs. You fell more over more times than Mean so I guess that makes you drunker."
My smartphone shows more photos of nachos than of any birthday celebration, so I don't know what to say about that. Or where the nachos came from.
The next time I hit Woodstock (the pub), the bartender laughed and threw up her hands: "Iron Maiden Guy!" To that I replied with a puzzled, cocked eyebrow. "On your birthday, you wanted to hear ‘Run to the Hills' by Iron Maiden, but you were too drunk to fill out a song request form. You are so awesome! Eventually, when you asked for more booze we gave you shots of water, because you were just so piss drunk. We didn't charge you and you told us you loved us about as many times as you requested Iron Maiden. Come back any time!"
So there it is, the story of my 33rd birthday. Let's hope my 2013 amazes the world, and me. And let's also hope I recollect more of my 34th birthday.
Thanks for everything everybody! You're the best!