There've been many
I recounted this story to some friends in the early stages of a Thursday night piss-up last night, and they considered it a winner.

Our favourite bar to drink at is called Roots Time, a small basement bar that plays a good selection of '60s and '70s reggae and ska. It's near Hongik University, an arts university and the center of everything ever resembling countercultural activity in all of Korea. This bar itself is owned by a couple, the husband being Japanese and the wife being Korean. It's hilarious seeing white English teacher customers come in and labour over Korean with the bartender, not realising that he's not much better at it than them. Even if I'm sitting at the bar bullshitting with him, nobody ever seems to get it.

So, one night in 2010 I drank til closing, which in Korea is whenever business is running dry, or the subways open at 5:30am, or the owners want to go home.

On my way home, I decided to stop by Burger King, one of the few 24-hour establishments, for some late-night food. I went in, and as usual my order took about five minutes. Keep in mind, I was belligerently drunk. Grabbing the take-out bag, I went out to hop on my scooter and take the 5-minute ride home.

One problem: my scooter wasn't here. It flashed through my head briefly that I couldn't really expect protection from crime myself, having been about to commit the crime of drunk-driving. On the other hand, I was poor, and vengeful.

I went to the parking garage across the street, where a security guard was on duty and there might be CCTV. The guard was unhappy to have me here, but I was furious. In my poor Korean I asked if there were video cameras, then I asked to use a land line to call the police. The police were easily able to give me an English translator, and I explained my situation and my location. They told me to wait there for a police car.

I went out and sat on the curb. While waiting, I figured I'd eat the Burger King meal. Partway through, the couple who own Roots Time passed me on the way home, and I explained my situation. After they were gone, I looked both ways up the street, looking for the police who would come to hopefully return my stolen property. I've had scooters stolen before, three times, and two of those three times the scooter was ditched nearby.

Then I got to thinking: I didn't take my scooter there that day. Reassured in that fact, and slightly embarrassed, I walked home. Sure enough, when I woke up next afternoon, there was my scooter, right in the parking garage.

To give you that authentic feeling of having been there, here's the exact location on Daum Street View.
local.daum.net/map/index.jsp?panoid=1017232924&pan=46.9&tilt=0.1&zoom=-3&map_type=TYPE_SKYVIEW&map_hybrid=true&map_attribute=ROADVIEW&q=&urlX=483085&urlY=1126733&urlLevel=3
The Burger King's on the right, and the parking garage is part of the highrise a little up ahead on the left. If you scroll 90 degrees to the left, you'll see the curb I polished off the Bacon Double Cheeseburger Meal.
(racetraitor has an alibi for, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 18:35, Reply)