I love Hip Hop. Whether it’s underground Korean Hip Hop or Tyga’s newest album- chances are you will see me dressed in one of my favorite baseball caps and a crop top twerking with my girls in our favorite Hip Hop Club. And while I’m jamming with my friend to 3 X In a Row right now (an oldie but a goodie – anyone with me here?!) it automatically threw me back to one of the worst party nights ever which … you guessed it … took place at one of Seoul’s most famous Hip Hop Clubs.
It was during those last warm nights in October when my girlfriends and I decided to spoil ourselves with a legendary party night in Hongdae – and with that I mean getting a table with a shit ton of booze feeling like badass bitches blowing their pocket money for the weekend. The night started like a usual Saturdaynight: We hopped on the sub later than expected, pregamed with Tequila shots at a random bar in Sinchon and showed up to the club last minute before the guest list closed. I already started falling head over heels for pretty much every good-looking boy that we passed by, making me feel like a hormone driven teenager again. Little did I know – those guys were only the appetizers for the main dishes waiting inside.
It was every girl’s Candyland: A club filled with a shit ton of K-Pop look-alikes dressed in leather jackets and ripped jeans with smooth and dewy skin and perfectly parted black hair. Dazzled by our Pregame shots, the music and the hot party crowd, my friends and I decided to drink more and with every shot the music got louder, my dance moves smoother and the guys hotter. This promised to be a magical place. After endless hours of dancing with my girls to the beats of the Dj, I ended up at the table alone trying to push a grabby Japanese asshole away from me, whose Korean was obviously good enough to flirt with me but apparently not good enough to understand a No. I have to admit – getting into this situation was partly my fault. Impressed by his chill dance moves and the tattoos in his face that made him look like an ex-member of the Yakuza, I had invited him over to our table before (yes – I belong to the girls that like to be in charge and if I think you are hot I will let you know!). I was already on the verge of cursing at him in every language I know, when someone grabbed my waist, leaving the Yakuza boy like a crestfallen little boy alone at the table. It was a tall, semi-handsome Korean guy I had a drink with at the Club’s bar before, who gently pulled me to the hallway. He talked to me in Korean, asking if I was having a hard time. Still terrified from that big junk of assholeness I had just experienced and slightly numb by the amount of alcohol I had consumed, I nodded and took his hand. It took me a minute to realize what was going on (again – blame it on the alcohol and my bad nativity back in those days) but my superhero in disguise handed me nothing more than a small white pill. I had seen it before, in fact: I had seen my friends take it before. It looked like Xanax – probably the fastest and safest party drug you could find Korea. “Mixed with alcohol it makes you feel chill enough to forget all your sorrows, still awake enough to socialise and euphoric enough to be the life of the party!”, my friends once told me. Sounds good right? Did I take the drug? Fuck no – I am not trying get my ass in jail in Korea! So my drunk self decided to do what I can do best – messing with the boys that think they can actually mess with me while giving them the cutest fakeass smile the bigcity life taught me. I threw the pill over my shoulder while pretending taking it (something my drunkass superhero in disguise totally bought).
Having lost faith in humanity that night I ended up at the table again. The magic had vanished. Within a couple of hours I had turned from a hormone driven, her sexuality discovering 14-years old girl to a badass party chick on top of her game to a scared and exhausted piece of self-pity dreading nothing more than to go home. I ended up taking my jacket and walking to the subway alone not telling my girlfriends about my sudden departure from Candyland. I was not the only one tired of partying at that time and joined the other lost souls at the subway station waiting for the first subway to arrive. There we were. A colorful but miserable looking crowd bathing in self-pity after a night out in wonderland – or as I like to call them – The lost souls of Seoul in the morning waiting for the first subway back to reality.
xoxo Laura Belle