By Alex Akins ’18

Editor’s Note:  Freight Train 5 is a continuation of Alex Akin’s non-fiction creative writing series.  FT4 can be read here.

Over the summer I “worked” as a lifeguard at Canterbury Golf Club. This was my first somewhat-job [sic].  During those heady-days of the summer of ’14, Muck and I were both “not invited back” from my Mom’s architectural firm for many reasonable reasons. The reasons being breaking shelves while stacking papers, working for around three to four hours a day, and taking many questionable breaks throughout the day.

I knew I had to get a new job and lifeguarding seemed perfect for a hard worker such as myself. I passed the course and somehow got a job at Canterbury Golf Club. My first month there was atrocious. I was the youngest one there by three years and the only person that I had ever seen before was my cousin (who probably got me the job in the first place). I didn’t talk; I just sat in that tallish chair by the side of the pool and “saved lives.”

I didn’t talk; I just sat in that tallish chair by the side of the pool and “saved lives.”

One day however some coworkers of mine found my Twitter (it’s on a need-to-know basis) and then for some odd reason thought I was funny. Instead of being that concerningly quiet person at work, I became somewhat relevant, unimportant but still relevant. The Lifesavers and I decided to celebrate no one successfully drowning one day by going out for some Korean BBQ. The restaurant of choice would be Korea House, located at 3700 Superior Ave.

The greatest thing about Korea House is that it has absolutely no parking. You have to park on the street—what other place than the unmarked building across the street? The only thing I know about it is that it has free street parking for Korea House.

The second best part about Korea House is that it looks nothing like a restaurant from the outside. The front of the building has a red and blue lit sign that says “Korea House”. I went to open the door, but it doesn’t open. In fact it has never been open. I had to go around to the side entrance where there is a blue banner that once again says “Korea House”. I pulled on the door and actually got in to find a family all wearing paper hats.

I pulled on the door and actually got in to find a family all wearing paper hats.  Typical.  Fools not wearing tin foil.  Do they think paper is actually going to protect them?

The third best thing about Korea House is the interior design. I don’t know what existed in the Korea House building before Korea House, but I’m positive it wasn’t a restaurant. All of the furniture could easily be confused with lawn furniture. The walls are covered with Korean writing and Korean propaganda (North or South?  I don’t pretend to know).

The Lifesavers and I sat down right across from the family in construction paper hats. One of the Lifesavers claimed he was an expert on Korean barbeque and knew exactly what he wanted before we even got menus. When the waitress came over he immediately tried to impress her as he tried to pronounce the Korean name for his food. After being corrected five times he finally got it right. I decided to risk my life and without taking any warning sign from the exterior, location, and interior of the restaurant and I ordered shrimp. This idea was akin to Fred Durst’s Limp Bizkit playing “Break Stuff” to an overheated, very angry, and dehydrated crowd at Woodstock ’99.

While waiting for our food the hospitable people of Korea House gave us a free raw egg. The egg was somehow able to cook on a cold plate, and while waiting for it to finish we all looked at each other waiting to see who would make first contact. The brave soul that I was that night made first contact with the suspect egg— and my word was it amazing. It was everything you wouldn’t expect.

Shortly after the suspect egg we were given our meals. It was at this point that I realized that I have no idea what chopsticks are and how to use them. Thankfully for me the, “expert” of the Lifesavers was able to give me a lecture on chopsticks. After learning nothing and gaining nothing from the expert and poking at my shrimp with chopsticks, I had to awkwardly ask the waitress for silverware.

After learning nothing and gaining nothing from the expert and poking at my shrimp with chopsticks, I had to awkwardly ask the waitress for silverware.

The Shrimp was just as surprising as the suspect egg. It tasted great and I didn’t die, yet! (We are all going to die, after all) About three quarters into our meal and old Korean woman was staring at the “expert” from the kitchen. She slowly walked over and started yelling at him. She claimed that he was eating his food wrong. She called over another waiter and started talking to the waiter in Korean. She then grabbed the expert’s food and showed him how to eat it. His meal came in four parts, and instead of mixing it all together and adding sauce that was giving to him, as she instructed him to, he just ate all four parts separately. After being scolded by the Korean woman we decided that it would be a good time to leave.

Rating: 10/10

• Parking – 9.5/10 – Even though they had no parking lot, the unmarked building across the street offers great deals on parking.
• Location – 10/10 – Most US kids, including myself, could get out of the US bubble more often, and go to somewhere that isn’t located on East 4^th street when visiting downtown.
• Exterior – 10/10 – What is better than a brick building and a false entrance? Absolutely nothing.
• Interior – 10/10 – Nothing is more comforting than outdoor furniture inside and Korean propaganda.
• Suspect Egg Appetizer – 11/10 – It’s free and it’s good.  Nothing more to be said.
• Food – 10/10 – I didn’t die and it was very good.