The first Korean shop owner I befriended was back in Georgetown Park Mall. Ms.Kim runs the coffee shop on the lower level, across from the book store I used to work at. She's a stylish, slim woman in her mid-forties. Constantly complaining about mall management, lack of customers and the bills, can't say I blame her, business was tough in those times. She doted on my son, plying him with free slurpies and oversized, rather old cookies. I remember her squawking like a goose in the middle of the mall atrium one morning. She later told me she was angry because Casa Nostra furniture store were paying less per square foot on their rent, so she was going "to bother them" by scaring their customers away with her yelling. Smart chick, Kim. And my first Korean teacher.
That came in handy when I moved down here and met the folks from Tony's Country Market, which sits on the corner of 16th and V. It's a bullet-proof operation dealing in 40 oz. malt liquor, Newports and various grocery items, blunts and candies. You can pick up a cup of soup for $1.35. Ramen.
Tony, the proprietor, is all boxer shorts, gold chains, thinning comb over, bedroom slippers and acrylic socks. He's jovial, happy to be in business, and very comfortable with his clients. His wife is a surly, angry woman who looks burnt out from the constant barrage of "Motherfuck You Chinese Bitch".
The game can go something like this. Buy a pack of cigarettes, go to the corner, smoke a few, have your friend go back into Tony's and force her into giving up another pack because they are "old" or "not the ones you meant to buy". She's fierce, Mrs. Country Market. She don't go for anything. Her English is better than she lets on, because she can quickly gain advantage using the wave of the hand and a "No...No...No Can..." and feigning igorance.
When I first would go in I didn't like her much. She wouldn't respond to my Korean and that pissed me off. Whereas Tony would respond, and began teaching me new phrases, she wasn't having it. Just like salesgirl at the Warehouse supermarket who gets cold with me. "Why do you speak Korean to me? I speak English, you know."
Slowly over the months Mrs. Country Market has warmed up to me. She has a very elegant smile and can express herself most clearly. She was very happy to hear my son was in camp in Virginia. "This place no good."
Sometimes I feel guilty agreeing. I would love to be able to walk into a store and see black hands returning my change. But I like seeing the Koreans do their thing. We could learn a lot from them. Like how an entire family comes together to make a legacy for themselves in a very hostile, rascist community.
The cashier at the 24 hour market on Good Hope road thinks he LL Cool Korean or sumpin'. He's all licking his lips and grabbing his crotch, giving the see through stare when I ask for cigarettes. Once, to be cute, I busted out with a Tang Sheem Uhm Mo Chim Ni Da which (I believe) is akin to You're very handsome and kind. Originally learned to use on the fine gallery rep in Georgetown...that was one muscled hunk of Han Guk Man I tell you. Now the cashier was a dog in any land, looking especially ridiculous rubbing his crotch and Baby Babying me down in the 'hood. Can I tell you how he stood up straighter, smiled like boy on a first date, and replied in perfect Peter Brady english with a "Where did you learn to speak Korean?"
It was my turn to lick my lips.
"In South East, Baby!"
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