Lost with no Translation

Friday:
Not only did going to Japan give me a valuable experience, but it also reminded me of the troubles an inability to communicate cause. Lost, with no one to translate. My friend Bart had to go to Japan to renew his visa and I just tagged along for the ride. Bart is from Arkansas but he's been in Korea for four years. Of all those I've met here, his philosophy best mirrors my own. Bart is easy-going and extremely personable- the perfect travel companion. Bart could make friends at an Al Quida convention. We traveled to Busan, Korea's 2nd largest city and the ferry location late Friday night. Finding a suitable but cheap hotel was simple. We wanted to check out the nightlife around the hotel. We didn't know at the time that we were in Busan's legendary smut district. Immediately, we noticed many Russians in limited clothing although they shouldn't have been revealing anything. A women nearing middle age invited us into a small bar. She looked like an uglier, fatter version of the 3rd Rock from the Sun girl. We walked in, ordered a couple Coronas and then had a look around. Usually, I like intimate bars but this was far too intimate. Korean girls were draping some soldiers. 3rd Rock sat us down with two ragged, bleached-blonde hair, sagging, pathetic looking Russian women. We said 'hello' and they tried speaking to us, but it was difficult to understand. After a few minutes, they told us to buy them each a shot. We laughed and refused but they weren't amused. "yes," they'd say and "No, hahaha," we'd reply. 3rd Rock sat down and told us we had to buy them some booze and threatened Bart with something resembling murder. That was it, we grabbed our beers and quickly left the bar. We walked briskly, checking over our shoulders for Russian Mafia, but none came. I needed a shower after just walking down that filthy street. Even the 711 was seedy. We decided to grab a couple beers from the gas station and drink in our own hotel room. Good idea, good conversations, goodnight.