**Warning: The following blog contains adult situations, violence, graphic visual and verbal depictions of sex, reader-badgering, and long pointless accounts of things that did not happen to you. You have now been warned.

I was able to nip an addiction in the butt today before it festered into a hotbed of debauchery that would lead to my downfall in a country where I still must script my conversations. I was able to do it by being a loser. Yes, gambling is not in my blood apparently.

Yesterday, I went on a scavenger hunt. There were five destinations for our quest. The clues were all in an envelope, so it was more like a touristy hunt where we explored the sights that we still hadn't seen on the island. Anyway, though the rock and tree root art garden was pretty cool, and the Old Women's restaurant on the seashore sparked interesting notions about food sanitation and health codes, the highlight was definitely Jeju Loveland. How do I detail this place? Well, the reviews we read of it compared it to Disneyland, but there are no rides. Wow, rides at this place would be out-of-control! It's basically an outdoor sculpture garden with erotic statues and art everywhere.
The social commentary could be someone's thesis if they so desired. This place is like a sociologist's heaven, if they like eroticism. But I must not distract myself from this blog... my weekend did not climax at Loveland.


Is the picture to the right not interesting commentary on Homosexuality?


DVD Bangs to Samgyupsal to failed attempts at finding a pool table... left us with a craving for $1 chamgpagne and Chuck Norris in order to kick the heads off the gross Americans we try not to associate with in Korea, but I'll be damned if I pretend to be a friggin' Canadian. Chuck Norris was out that evening, but that's fine because I have a sick obsession with CSI and there was a marathon on all day. The Ass-kicking could wait one more day.

On Sunday, some of the Jeju crew decided that the Horse Festival was where the fun was at(Note: I had to explain to my co-teacher that you cannot end sentences with prepositions, but have noticed myself breaking that grammatical rule all the time now). Let me tell you something though... you have not lived until you have been to The Jeju Horse Festival.

As I alluded to before, I might have had a serious gambling problem by next spring if I came up a winner today. Fortunately, I lost all my money and learned a lesson (or maybe I just learned to trust instinct and not statistics... crap). The situation, nonetheless was pretty wild. We sat in the "foreigner" section of the track with all the Japanese people. I learned how to bet on horses, but like Emerald, I was sad that drinks weren't complimentary for gamblers. We got a taste for the upcoming evening when they insisted that we pose for pictures. They gave us a treasure map and a few lucky souls found or simply were given $50 debit cards to spend anywhere. The ease at which we were finding these prizes was disillusioning though, but that managed to get us out to the Festival and stop losing money.

The festivities were terrific. We ate some horse meat(delicious), watched Rafiq (aka Pickle) and Lauryn (aka Lion) lasso some lame pony(Another Note: This is an appropriate use of the word lame, however if you are one of those ultra-PC people campaigning against the use of the word "lame" as a synonym for boring, then YOU SUCK!). We also saw the most amazing acrobatics on horses imaginable(all within inches of having their faces grated like cheese on the chainlink fence), and taught Lauryn first-hand what the phrase 'hung like a horse' means.

It was the Pony fighting that seemed to be the the peak in our entertainment. They put three quadrapeds in the ring and they went bonkers. There was biting, kicking, punching, and pretty much anything went. I mean they're horses, it's not like they were obeying a referee. Sad faces and tackless jokes followed the fighting. The horses really had been going at it, then we realized what their inspiration was to fight. The winner got the girl in the ring... suddenly we were living in the discovery channel, though infused with some low-budget pornography. It was awful. If you have yet to see a horse fight, let me watn you that the sex afterwards is no cuddle-fest. In fact, it's not even close to civilized sex. I would equate it to a Prison rape scene I saw once in a Van Damme movie where the guy pounds his face against a bunk bed and violates him so hard he blacks-out. It was that shocking, yet here are all these children watching the 'mating' between two horses. Bullshit, I declare shenanigans.


We made our way back to the track, our heads flashing with images of a 2 foot long penis and a quivering and traumatized pony. I lost more money on those damn horses, but wondered why the creepy guy kept poking his nose around our table... sketchy for sure.

The following happened so fast, I'm not sure how to explain it. All I know is that I'm closer to my goal of becoming a Korean Megastar. I'll be on TV this Saturday. Tune into the MBC network to watch me and all my friends singing 'My Girl'.


We got roped into it through a series of events beginning with Lauryn's host father trying to convince his American to sing on stage. The stage quickly turned into a platform of focus for TV cameras and a live band for the Karaoke contest. It was probably Rafiq's hollering and waving that got the attention of the host who turned all eyes in the audience on us and forced us to be next on stage. A 10 minute feud ensued as the six of us debated which song to sing on National television. Somehow we chose The Temptations and proceeded onstage.

After our performance and back in the audience, I was offered a cup of coffee by this guy, but when I refused that he handed me his child instead. I played with the kid a little until the baby fussed and I started to hand him back to the man, but he refused to take his child. It was probably a sign that I should have kept the child when the father communicated this to the baby by raising his fist at the 1 year old blob of baby fat.
With the newly adopted baby it was time for some gay marriage and adoption campaign photos. If you think these two men would be anything but wonderful with a child, then you probably deserve what the Pony got at the end of the horse fight... that's right, all 24 inches.

A few interesting things have happened this week, I'll share them from boring to enticing:

1) I went for a bike ride on Wednesday when I learned I had my classes canceled. I rode towards the East and ended up about 35-40 Km away at Pyoseon Beach. My knee was reminding me that we'll all grow old eventually, but my back was saying, "Your bike is too small, and your seat too high. Stop buying things in Korea; they don't fit you." So you can imagine how I felt after I made the trip back home to Seogwipo?

2) I learned that there is such thing as a fever-induced seizure. Not me. Another Fulbrighter had one, my Chuncheon roommate Dana to be exact. I wonder how he's doing? I should call him now that he's survived the worst(knock on wood).

3) I found a Calligrapher in town. But he's a real stubborn asshole and won't tell me where or with whom I can get lessons. I told him I know Hangeul, and I have been in his shop twice to ask him. Each time he just gives me some calligraphy and says, "bye!". The second time, he didn't recognize me, which I thought was strange considering the remarkable representation of white-people in this fishing town. I kept asking him, if he could teach me... "no." I kept asking him who could teach me... "mmmm, no." So I then pestered him as to where I could learn... "no." He sucks.

4) I'm usually pretty oblivious to flirtation, but today it was obvious. The lady who works at a language institute in Jeju-si came into my office today. She was escaping from a lecture down the hall meant for the Dominicans she was touring around from school to school on the island. She began to flirt with me a little, but she was old enough to be my mother...
...She then invited me to judge an English Contest in Jeju-si the following week. I politely declined informing her that I must teach on Wednesday and Thursday. She then leaned against the wall and pulled one knee up and put her foot on the wall while putting her hands behind her back and told me that someone would cover for me. I again politely told her that I couldn't do that to my co-teachers because that would be very rude. She again insisted and began to eye me up and down in a seductive manner. I told her that I knew some other Fulbrighters in Jeju who would not have to commute an hour to get there. Then she began to stroke her fingertips between her breasts tugging gently at her shirt and told me in a low voice while leaning towards me, "I need a SPECIAL kind of teacher..."
Remembering Mrs. Robinson, I thanked her for the invite, but would regretably not be able to come. She frowned and told me to go back to work.

The familiar sounds of an unfamiliar language resonate inside my head throughout the day, but nothing can usurp the incomprehensible noise of my host brother. Each morning I am awakened to the voice of my host mother yelling my brother's name, "dae geon ah!!" Now, his name is only Dae Geon, I don't know why she adds the "ah!". Maybe it will be explained when I figure out why Koreans moan to end phone conversations. Anyway, the response my host brother gives is quite unique. I try and imitate it all day long, but I do it no justice. So, I don't know what the climate is like about Helen Keller references these days, but he sounds something like a dying seagull crossed with Helen Keller at the height of ecstacy. Or, if you've seen Mars Attacks!, it's something like the the way Hugh Hefner would sound doing those alien voices. "Gak!"

Now, the other familiar sound is my host mother. Everyday she will try to speak to me once... just once... then she gives up. It's as though the language barrier isn't just a wall, but a criminal with an assualt record, because once she fails, she retreats like a couples' therapy weekend. Yet her attempts have a common thread, utter nonsense.

Example: Alexuh, Suk-yeong(my sister), chil-mun(question).
Mind you she is speaking in her native language. I assumed she meant to ask if her daughter asks many questions in my class, but that was never resolved. She also loves to point at things and say the word in English. Then I say yes and she says it again, looking to me for some type of affirmation or reaction on my part. Much of the time this happens with food at the table. She stands over me watching me eat, and when I am not eating the soup she says "soup" and motions to eat. But when I am not eating the beef she says "beef" and again mimics the shoveling action to her speaker box.

Lady, I've only got one mouth.

As I sit here contemplating my next blog, I am forced to begin about the awkwardness of my host family talking about me when I'm in the room. I mean, I know I don't understand much Korean, but I sure as hell know my name when it's spoken.

I'm so cheap that today I walked 20 minutes back to my house in the middle of a typhoon. I didn't want to spend the 2 dollars for a taxi ride for door to door service. I think most of it was the adventure of walking through a typhoon, which almost knocked me over a few times, but did allow for me to strike the Michael Jackson "Bad" pose a couple times. It was sweet.

So, our weekly rendevous with the Jeju crew was a pleasant one. We took a tour of the World Sex Culture Museum beneath the World Cup Stadium. Complete with fake anus and vagina mystery boxes, peep shows and stone dildos. It was quite an experience. I personally loved the sign to a door leading to the museum marked, "multi-purpose room".

The looming typhoon was not enough to deter the masses from watching last place Jeju United compete against their rivals, the Pohang Steelers. Despite the free admission to the game, the "masses" I mentioned before were actually barely enough to fill a high school gym. The game ended in a tie. I can't believe that can happen in some sports, that defies all the macho bullshit that goes into the sport in the first place.

The morning before these events, I and a few other Seogwipo folks promised Gretchen that we'd come to her English Role Play Contest put on by her school. I woke up that morning sicker than I'd been all week, not bad, just stuffy and pissy from being stuffy. After taking some psuedophedrine I snuck into this country, I thought I'd be fine, but my snot rag was filled by 10am and my eyes were watering from what seemed to be a sudden onset of my non-existent allergies. But we arrived at the school and we were greeted with much vigor from the VP and other English teachers... most likely because they were counting on us to serve as the judges for the contest; this was news to us.

After 3 hours of rewritten fables and creative twists to disney stories, we were allowed to hear the kids sing pop songs. Some of them were alright, some not bad, but the kids that resorted to magic tricks during The Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way", were by far the losers of the day. I hate to rag on poor middleschoolers, but damn, talk about tone-deaf.

I know what cured me of my cold this weekend, but I prefer to call it a miracle. A daily dose of vitamin C has been no match for typhoon weather and a 20 degree change in weather. I told my co-teacher I was feeling sick and she asked if I had taken medicine. I said that I was taking care of myself and sleeping as much as possible. She told me that I might die if I didn't take cold medicine. That wasn't as weird as my host-sister who asked if i had gone to the hospital yet:

"What? Why would I go to the Hospital?"
"Hmm(types into electronic dictionary), for injection!"
"Injection? There is no cure for the common cold. What do they inject you with?"
"Injection!"
"I understand. But what IS it?"
"Injection!"
"I know, but if Korea has the only known cure for the common cold, that's more valuable than nuclear secrets from North Korea. I don't need an injection, thank you. But again, what's IN the needle?"
"Oh. I don't know."

A futile attempt to wake-up at 4am for a sunrise hike...

Despite initial failure, we managed to make a great day out of our usual transportation troubles. It all began with a struggle of opening my eyes, yet once open, I saw the light and started the day out on the right foot. A random call from Gretchen proved yet again how small this island really is, and though she had obviously been, she couldn't even give a ball-park figure for an ETA to the summit(her family like to wander). Turns out my speed-demon tendencies are a communicable disease and we peaked about 15 minutes after passing the pony rides.

With a GS Mart breakfast in our stomachs we walked briskly to the bus stop. Where we met Mr. Persistent Taxi Driver... again. You see, last night we tried to get to Ilchubong via Express Bus, but when he asked where we were going, he tried to wring us dry of 30,000 won. We wanted the bus. But all attempts to relay that information got him so worked up I thought the man would kidnap us and teach us a lesson, for how DARE we get into a taxi and ask to go to the Bus Station?
Turns out the man was just trying to explain how we can take a special taxi for 5,000 each. But these Krazy Koreans and their raised voices make you wonder what button you pushed. I just wish they would slow down rather than speed up when we tell them we DO NOT SPEAK KOREAN.

So again, a lurking taxi attempted a quick offering of his services and usurping of the bus' power. Our ability to defend our right as mass transit loyals was respected, but not without the humiliation of being told we were on the wrong side of the street.


Our language skills proved worthy again and we boarded a bus to see some of the largest and longest cave network in the world. It is a system called the 'lava tubes' where an ancient myth required the sacrificing of a virgin to the giant snake that inhabited the caves. They stopped wasting precious girls around the 14th century when a new ruler of the island convinced them that he slaughtered the slithering beast.

Next stop: Maze park. Meh, expectations exceeded the well designed maze. Honestly people, when you design a maze, do not put arrows that direct people to the end. That ruins all the fun.

We decided that we must seek out the vague descriptions of 'Cafe 1263' described in Lonely Planet. We figured this was for the determined adventurer, so we walked the 6km to the town where it was supposedly located. Communication was weak in finding this place, but the old man that had more metal in his mouth than a '55 Caddy seemed like a good bet since he obviously wanted to talk to us(Lauryn: Is that man 'yogi-yo'-ing us?). I know why he kept telling me I was tall, but I don't understand why he kept asking me about Japan? I tried to ask about the Cafe, but he just wanted to repeat whatever he was saying about the town of Seogwipo.

Finally, when all hope is lost and you're looking for the next bus stop, you will find what you're looking for. I professor-type man, who speaks some English, serves a mean cup of drip coffee, and even offers to find you a ride for free to Jeju-si is what you can expect at Cafe 1263. Thank you Lonely Planet for not crushing dreams.

Finally, we made it to Gogi, where we had 'sam gyup sal' and the greatest hybridization of American overconsumption of cheese and Korean overconsumption of rice... Thank you Kate for informing the masses about Cheesy Rice existence in Jeju.

So I found out where Old Yeller went after Travis shot his dog in the face...
...yup, that's right, he got chopped up and went to a Korean 'shik tang'.

So I ate dog last night. It's told to be a powerful food for men, not exactly sure how, but maybe it's like those old myths that if you eat Lion meat you will obtain extraordinary strength.

I must say that it was tasty, not the best meat, but edible for sure. It was odd though, our plate was almost entirely fat. And the fat on dog has a texture to it like no other. It was almost like it wasn't cooked, and it just sort of melted in your mouth. Well, I won't be eating that again by choice. I couldn't get the images of dogs being butchered out of my mind. You the hell is so stone-cold that they can slice up dogs for a living?

Anyway, afterwards I had this 'oh my god, our languages are so different' moment. It centered around a 15 minute conversation about the difference between "pick-up (a person" and "pick-up (an object)"... it was a struggle and I have nothing to show for it now except the word for moon, "dahl".

The second round consisted of me trying to fend off the 42 year-old woman that works in the bar below. When she's around the questions always turn to my feelings on marriage, whether or not I have a girlfriend, and if I think she's pretty. I tell her that I'm spoken for, but then she just tells me that I can have TWO girlfriends. I could tell her I have leprosy, and she'd still rub-up on me all the time. One night I told her she was old enough to be my mother. Part of that got translated, it was a nasty scene.

I got back home at 9:30pm (that's too early for my spirit). So, I met up with Rafiq who happened to be sitting at a park bench in the main rotary. It was a nice night of talking to strangers, harassing school kids on their way home after 'hogwon', and talking shop with another English teacher.

I love the fact that we can drink on the streets here; it's one of my favorite places to drink wherever I am, but a friend we met last night asked us, "are you poor?". He was legitimately concerned about our welfare, but he couldn't understand that we enjoyed it. Ah, the low culture that I enjoy spreading!

I think what's been on my mind all day long is something a fellow teacher has said to me nearly a dozen times spread out over our last 3 dates:

"You might think our customs are offensive, but you must understand, they are what we have, please understand".

Now, I really don't know why he says this all the time. I think it's pretty funny that he mentions it during 'no-rae-bang' hours, but why would I find karaoke offensive, especially when I participate with some Journey, Guns'n'Roses, and Santana... I mean, c'mon man, I obviously like to get down Korean style too.

And so last night he once again said such a phrase to me. I decided to be more bold and bypass my reassuring comments like, "I never would judge a people" or "I love Korean culture", and move straight to the "what specifically do you think is wrong with your culture? what do you think I don't understand?" He could not answer my questions, but it was obvious he thought many things were wrong. The situation is troublesome to me. I think there is more to this mindset than we can understand. Here is my theory to the "It's just Korean" attitude for cultural difference explanations:

I think that Koreans feel this need to impress Americans or explain their cultural differences. In their eyes, I believe that they see us individually as watch-dogs; our military presence as the same role extends to each 'mi-guk' that visits. When they get blackout drunk, friends feel it necessary to make excuses: "It's just Korean culture". But who would anyone be to judge someone for getting too drunk. Most of us have been there and NO ONE should view that as a cultural difference, but rather a personal choice/problem. Drinking culture is a whole new can of worms though.
Unfortunately, for the past 50 years my country has been a presence in South Korea. The consequences are simple really. South Korea has undergone Modernization quickly and through various states (dictatorship, martial law, democracy). It has flourished from a prepubescent war-torn country, to one of the largest economies and most desirable travel destinations in the world(though still at war with itself).

The fact is that other countries look up to us, whether they like it or not; we have been placed in centerstage and must suffer the cooing from around the globe. We are not the model country, however, and it is tragic that Koreans feel the need to justify their habits to us. It is awful that anyone should feel the need to defend their country's practices for ANY REASON.

What I perceive to be present in those comments is a need to make excuses in the presence of the big brother. If my overall notions are true to any extent, I am deeply saddened by the truth.

Is it a sin to give a Jehovah's Witness a fake phone number?

Let me first say that I have cheated death twice today. It all started yesterday when I decided that I was too tired from a weekend of bus excursions, sunburns, motel-crashing, and window-shopping to ride my bike to school. I simply looked out the window and said, "well, looks like rain."

Fact is I was not about to get on my bike, I don't make the decisions, my legs do. So I had a good day of teaching, no complaints and then I high-tailed it out of there around 4pm. I'm in my nice clothes and I think to myself, "hmm, I guess it was a nice day afterall." But I wait at the bus-stop and realize that I have no money. So instead of just going back to the school and asking to borrow a dollar from my co-teacher(the good christian that she is), I make a hasty decision of walking home via the coast and listening to music all the way home. Well, to make a long story shorter and less boring, I somehow found myself and hour into the 45 mintute walk only half-way home crawling over a junk pile at the edge of a cliff praying I don't slip and pissed that my Ipod ran out of juice... I got lost. There I said it, are you happy?

Well, to remedy that problem today I forced myself to ride to school despite what feels like an onsetting sore throat; the first sign of weakness my body has encountered since arrival. By the end of the day, it's pouring rain. My loop-track of cuss words is steadily flowing in my office since my bike will probably be rusted by the time the rain stops. But eventually I have to get on it and ride home. On the major downhill section of my ride, I get blinded by a heavy downpour, smacked in the face by a low-hanging vine and consequently veer into the road with bus riding my ass. Cheating death once in a day is fine, but twice?

So I get home, and the second I pull into the stairwell, this van stops outside the door and this woman says, "Alexuh!" I turn around and see the woman I had given my phone number to at the beach. I planned on putting her invitations off until she gave up hope, but she's a Jehovah's Witness.

Now here's where this gets strange, and I still don't have an answer to this. I live off all the main roads, and this woman is from another town. What kind of coincidence or act of God does it take to "run into" this woman in front of my house? I think she was stalking me, or found out where I live somehow and waited by the house for me to come home from school. Anyhow, I try to be nice and say that we should get a cup of coffee, but she tells me that she would like to treat me to dinner. Well, I had no answer to that, so I stupidly said, "yes", already fully processing the odds of bumping into someone directly outfront of my front door(I concluded that it was creepy whether or not it was chance), but I figured, she already knows where I live...

So as I desperately call my friends between showering and changing to tell them the strange sequence occuring in my life, I start thinking about what my mom said about sicko strangers in the world, "Be careful. You never know what kind of weirdo wants to drug you and take a kidney to sell on the black market..."

So aside from wanting to eat a watermelon during an hour long wait on Sunday for a bus, I want my knife so bad it's not funny. I seriously believed that I might have to protect myself physically from these people. So I grab the sharpest pen I can find and put it into my front right pocket, sweating and swearing to myself that I will not get into their car.

So jump in the front seat immediately. I ask them where we're going and they say "to our rest home". I don't know what a "rest home" is, but now I'm thinking I'm being taken to a cult meeting. I reach for my phone and have Lauryn's number ready to dial. I'm so paranoid I start thinking this woman right behind me is gonna strangle me with a shoelace or something. Jesus, I've seen too many movies. I decide the only way out of this situation if it proves not to be violent, will be a simple "God Doesn't Exist And This Is Why" rant. No need for violence in the end... though all signs pointed to death when I got into that van.

It turns out that Jehovah's Witnesses aren't all that bad... but when the woman told me she lost my phone number, I gave her a fake one, I just hope she doesn't change that 8 into a 0... or wait outside my door again... shit, what a bunch of weirdos.

A day meant to be spent at the beach turned into a day of shopping with 5 girls... how does that happen? I blame the light drizzle, but maybe it was the kibun of the group that morning. I was all set for adventure, even brought my headlamp to the big city for god knows what(but that's precisely what you need it for). And though I was moping for not getting to the beach(rain or shine), the thought of finding a Game Board Bang appealed to me. See they have these different types of Bangs here. Bang means "room", literally, and you can go to a PC bang, DVD bang, etc. I just felt like some Clue or something I suppose.

Anyway, after a dinner of some spicy chicken and watching bits of the Korean-Iran soccer game, it turned into a mellow night. Though I must say that I got pretty roudy when I wasn't allowed to watch a Chuck Norris film. I mean, it was suggested by someone else and then quickly taken back. What would Chuck Norris do in this situation? Chuck Norris doesn't take any gruff from anyone. I know what he would do... he'd lay down the law when it came to those Taxi Drivers that stalk pedestrians like prey.

Seriously, I think of them in a couple different ways:
1) They're sort of like Ambulance Chasers. They roam around the streets waiting for pedestrians to just give up and wait at a bus-stop, then they swoop in before the Bus arrives and cruise slowly by taunting and tempting you.
2) Vultures. They wait for that one person in the group to get a blister or faint from the heat. They slowly creep up from behind and draw the attention of the dying person and once they've made eye contact--BOOM! The taxi has it's kill.
3) Kidnappers. They act like the creep outside the school yard who pulls up and offers the kid a ride: "Hey buddy! Do you want some AC? I got a lot of AC and plush leather seats if you want some. Hop in!"

Choosing between the taxi or bus is like choosing between the knife or poison. Either way you're going to die, it just depends on what kind of suffering you want to endure. We chose the bus(poison) on sunday and finally made it to the beach, the wrong beach, but it had sand. It took a while to get there, and leave, but whatever.
Where is Chuck Norris when you need him?

Whoa, I'm the King of First Impressions.

For 6 weeks our program coordinators tried to relay the message that first impressions are priceless in Korea. I took that to heart and have tried to follow all their suggestions from day one. But somethings you just cannot prepare for in life... I call it the underwear incident.

I ride my bike to school most mornings unless it's raining, and today was a beautiful morning. The problem is, I'm still on the impressions front, so I wear rather formal attire at school. So each morning I arrive about 8am and dry off in my office and then change. Now, today was the arrival of our new Principal since the other retired on tuesday. So I'm in my office with the music blasting as normal procedure indicates when you are 22, have a private office, and no one else even comes to the fourth floor. I decide I'm done sweating, so I start changing, no sooner than when I drop my pants do the vice-Principal and NEW Principal just saunter into my office and stare at me as my sweaty shorts are around my ankles. I assess the situation fast, taking into account the irony of "Stuck in the Middle with You" playing from my speakers and ask them to leave for 2 minutes while I change, but of course they don't speak English, so it must be my ass-crack hanging out that clues them in on the problem at hand.

I put my clothes on really quickly and walk out to meet the Principal. All of a sudden all normal customs slip my mind and I extend my hand for a firm shake. DOH! You bow to superiors! Then I use the informal tense as I introduce myself. DOH! And then I try to make converstaion when it's obvious that a) I really can't speak Korean and b) They want to get the hell outta Dodge.

THEN... my coteacher fails to inform me that we have a meeting in the teachers' office to greet the Principal. So here comes the tardy American into a meeting already started and everyone staring. It was a little awkward. Maybe I'll just invite the Principal to the bathhouse after school and level the playing field...