A Canadian writer teaches English and finds out what it's like to be a foreigner.

Friday, November 17, 2006

You can check out any time you like...

The man with the swept Don Johnson mullet, is smoking and gesticulating wildly. He and his business companion are enjoying Ceylon tea by the can, and and a hot pot of spicy bacon. Later in the washroom, he has no trouble continuing to smoke, since a small ashtray is riveted to the wall between the urinals. He grins and blows smoke into the air above the two of us.

I beat a hasty retreat.

Back in the bar proper, I lament to find that the singer doesn't know "Tiny Dancer," but he's happy to oblige me "Hey Jude."

The patrons of "Bros." sway along with the refrain of "Naaa-na-na-nana-na," and the sad looking domestic couple to the left continue to fill the awkward silence between them with the faint clink of a soju bottle.

It's my boss' anniversary as he sits and drinks with myself and two other teachers, but hey, he sent his wife a text message earlier in the day.

No sweat.

Just another Friday night. Just another request for "Hotel California."

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