Thanks, and A Brothel?

A Brothel?
Tonight Good Man and I went to a restaurant near our house. It’s this hole-in-the-wall, greasy-spoon looking Mexican joint and bar.

A few months ago, I asked my students about this place and they said it was great.

We walked in and nothing seemed too unusual, except that the shades were drawn. There were a few people eating, one group of really loud guys. We ordered our food and Good Man helped me with my Korean a bit.

Shortly before we received our food, I realized that everyone was staring at us. Really staring at us. Even the waitress was sort of giving us odd looks, though she was nice enough.

And then I looked around and realized that all of the people eating were men.

The joint had six or seven waitresses—much more than necessary—and all of them were wearing tight red pants and tight white shirts and about a pound of makeup. Good Man said, “I feel uncomfortable. I feel like we’re in Hooters.”

When we were almost done with our meal, a woman wearing extremely short hot pants came in and started setting up…something. And then two hired security guards came in.

I didn’t know the word for “brothel” or “whorehouse” so I said to Good Man, “포주 집인것 같지?” This seems like a pimphouse, doesn’t it? He agreed. Oh, and for the record, “brothel” is 사창가.

I don’t think we’ll be going back.

Yesterday we did not eat at a whorehouse. We ate at Mark’s Lover’s house. And it was wonderful.

Good Man at Mark’s Baby Grand

Good Man, Mark’s Co-Worker and Me
I need new jeans.




The Turkey
Doesn’t this look like a cover of a magazine?

(One of) The Stuffing(s)

We made this.

Some of the Other Dishes

The Sun