Pink Down Jackets

I'm writing now from Gimpo Airport, near Seoul, at a stand available for public use by passengers on Asiana Airlines. I'm usually an American Airlines kind of guy, but this trip is an exception: Star Alliance all the way. I flew on the top floor of a 747 for the first time from L.A. to Tokyo, writing my application to an MFA program at Columbia and watching West Wing episodes for eleven hours. It was beautiful.

Alas, because I procrastinated on the application, I've only slept about 5 hours since New Year's Eve, but I'm holding up surprisingly well so far. A couple observations before my flight to Taegu boards.

As my bus--a.k.a. "airport limousine"--pulled up to Gimpo Airport, I spotted a woman in a puffy pink down jacket and white skirt standing in the middle of a crosswalk, dancing, smiling and not moving out of our way. Her cheeks were blushed bright red. Just when I was starting to wonder if she was a deranged courtesan waiting for us to run her over, she curtsied and moved aside.

The bus rolled on, and someone dressed exactly like her waited at the next crosswalk.

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(A little girl in a blue coat just looked at me, then whispered something to her mom. I said, "hello," and she shyly responded, "hello." Her mom laughed.)

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At the airport cafeteria, I was pressed for time. My flight was about to board on the other side of security. I must have looked hurried, because when I ordered the sushi combination platter, the woman at the counter warned me, "That will be slow. Take ten minutes."

"Ah, I said, "That won't work. How about the kimchi and pork cutlet?"

"Faster," she said, smiling, "Take ten minutes."

I ordered that. Really good. And took only eight.