Korean Clubs

I was born with a very serious condition: I am rhythmically challenged. Essentially, I lack rhythm because my rhythmic gland is too small to function properly. When music comes on, it's like I'm swimming against the tide--my body fights every natural urge to move with the rhythm. It's rather uncomfortable to watch and is guaranteed to make your skin crawl.

Now while the condition strikes 9 out of every 10 white people, the condition is very rare among the Latin community, most of whom are generally born with a larger than average rhythmic gland. This is something I've had to live with my whole life.

When the Elaine Benes character on Seinfeld performed her famous dance scene that frightened children all over the world with her flailing body parts swinging like they were weapons of violence, I saw beauty in that--it was like a leaf blowing in the wind in a beautiful choreographed dance. I shed a small tear for Elaine, because I knew exactly how she felt.

There is no cure for my condition, but there is medication that keeps it at bay: alcohol. When a copious amount of alcohol hits the bloodstream, it enters the rhythmic gland and causes it to expand, thus increasing one's rhythm. This is referred to as the Dancing Drunkard Effect. While many doctors refuse to acknowledge Rhythmic Deficiency as an actual disease, the reality and legitimacy of the Dancing Drunkard Effect cannot be denied. It's basic science, people. Many close to me have seen it in full force. (e.g., Aleesha and Ben's wedding.)

Now I've never been a club kind of guy--partly because I hate not being able to hear what other people are saying, partly because I can't stand the music, partly because I hate over-paying for drinks, but a part of it is also that I simply can't dance. Why would somebody who can't swim go to a swimming pool?

Give me a stein of ale at a round table fitted with a dozen of my favourite people in the world, with maybe some Muse or Chili Peppers playing in the background, and I'm in heaven.

However, during my time in Korea, I've been to a few clubs with my buddy, Rob. Rob has opened my eyes to a whole new world. I never realized the beauty of house music until I came to Korea. All are welcome in the world of house; it is a community that doesn't discriminate.

While the music itself just sounds like the aural equivalent of somebody throwing a bucket of paint at a canvas, house music has to be the most accessible music on the face of the planet--mainly because any monkey can dance to it! Just move your body in whatever fashion you fancy--kick, stomp, twirl, jump, flail, gyrate, literally anything you can imagine--and you'll blend right in. One could have a seizure or a stroke in a club, and nobody would have a clue until it was far too late.

Our clubbing experiences thus far have been pretty stellar, mainly because of the awesome people we meet. Just this past weekend, we were befriended by a guy sporting a white t-shirt that read, "Coco made me do it" and rocking a killer mushroom cut. He and his his friends made it rain soju for the next couple hours. He even played wing man.

The Korean nightlife is exceptionally vibrant; the city never sleeps. A couple of my friends can attest to this, as they have literally danced or drank until the sun came up. But that's not what I love about Ulsan--mainly because my body isn't capable of such a feat. What I love is that you can make your way home at 4:00 or 5:00 at night and still feel completely safe. There are no brawls, there are no dramatic couples arguing in the middle of the street, there's no nutjob yelling at the world while riding on the bus, there's none of that. Or at least, I haven't seen any of that. All I see is guys who are stumbling home, an arm around each other's shoulder, and somehow holding each other up. Drunken friendship a beautiful thing.

And if you stay up late enough, you can cap your night off with McDonalds breakfast.