My Saturday Face

An Ulsan bar called "The Royal Anchor" hosted an 80's party on Saturday night. It had been the talk of the town all week, which should give you a good idea about the level of distraction that Ulsan provides for us expats on a weekly basis. Seoul it aint, but that's just fine with us. Anyway, I really wasn't ever pumped for the party. I guess I had one too many slippery nights in sweaty bars over the last two months. I had just downloaded "The Kingdom", a movie I've grown to love after repeat viewings, and that was more than enough to give me a solid Saturday night. But alas, visiting friends and casual soju under a perfect sky lured me to the dark side regardless of my mellow aspirations. I consented to do the 80's. But I had one problem: no costume.

My friends and I high tailed it over to a friends apt to "pregame" for the main event. Pregaming is something I almost always love doing, but I'm hardly in the dark about the consequences. (I'm going to take an aside here). Ideally, pregaming is meant to provide a cheap alternative to marked up drinks from the bar. That way, at least in theory, you can get a buzz on for cheap and still be on the same playing field as everyone else in the room. It's a sound theory, only it never works for me. I'm not a slowburner, nor have I ever been. I almost always walk out of a 'pregame' having isolated and tuned out the voice inside me that cautions against egregious spending on more drinks. Thus, the morning after brings pain not only to my head, but to my wallet as well. These are hard lessons I've learned after countless nights of unbridled joy, though usually coupled with sobering repercussions. Thankfully, this Saturday night was not one of those situations, and I left with both my wallet and my body generally in tact... I think.

So I arrived at the post game with no idea of how I would present myself at this soiree. Some people suggested I wear a basketball jersey, but seeing as how I had jeans on, and that Celtics jerseys are currently identicle to during the Reagan years, I decided to explore other avenues. That's when I remembered a brilliant costume a friend wore for Halloween '07: the goth! No, I'm not talking about a Hot Topic goth, I'm talking about a Robert Smith goth. I had always admired this look, and was eager to finally give it a shot. While the clothing would hardly be ornate or difficult, the costume absolutely dictated that I wear make up, and lots of it. I attacked this challenge with gusto. I kept telling the girls, 'More lipstick! More eye shadow! More face white stuff(?)! More hair spray! More! More!' I felt like a primadonna and I loved it.

The party went off without a hitch. Ulsan's expat population is unfortunately devoid of the type of person who might get my outfit, but on the other hand nobody judged. For me, it was just a fun excuse to run against the grain. While others danced and smiled, I sulked and grimmaced. I was having a blast. Eventually I loosened up and started dancing myself, and basically just joined the vibe.

Fast forward to the following evening and rubbing my face aggressively trying to wrest it from all the product. Everything came off easily, except for the eye shadow. Jesus! I've probably never wanted a girlfriend, a sister, or a transvestite more in my 23rd year. I don't know the secrets. I cleaned until I figured I was in a manageable place, and then crashed hard. I thought everything was ok until my co teacher asks me this morning why I'm wearing eye makeup. fml...