I was expecting the '생선' / '선생' confusion that everyone learning Korean has, mixing up 'fish' and 'teacher'.

"That introduction wasn't kind." I say out loud.

The department smells strongly of roasted garlic. No. Even stronger. It smells of roasting garlic.

I look around to see if there are security cameras, that I might submit a video of the park to the professional parallel parkers' association for prizes or honorary membership.

Everybody's favorite detective, Columbo, that little man in the rumpled raincoat, comes off base, but is deceptively acute.

I'm excited to use my screwdriver, but– I've learned this from my Dad– you have to curse a bit.

I'm walking through a building on campus where there are workers doing renovations. A fellow is singing as he polishes the floor. "Careful," he sings, making eye contact, "sharp bits on the ground.

People walk around campus in December with big sticks and knock the mo-gwa out of trees. Doesn't matter if they bruise when hitting the ground– nobody is eating them anyways.