I did a lot of dating back in my single days. Not so much before I married my first wife in 1995, but certainly quite a bit after my divorce from her in 2000. The whole process is humiliating, and thinking back on how nervous I was before, how awkward I felt during and how uncomfortable I was trying to say "good-night", I'm really glad I finally found someone and don't have to be involved in that whole process anymore. The whole thing is like a really complicated job interview, but instead of showing your resume and shaking hands, you're supposed to make great conversation and at some point try to be intimate with a total stranger.

About 3/4 of the dates I went on were pretty unremarkable, but that other 25% I look back on now and laugh. Some of the more memorable ones were a girl that turned out to be married, one girl that had full sleeve tattoo's all the way up to her neck and a girl that ate like four muscle relaxers and drank a six pack before she met me (she also turned out to have 6 kids).

It wasn't always the girls though; there were a couple of dates that I turned out to be the weirdo. One date that comes to mind was when the alternator on my truck died. Since the girl didn't know how to drive stick shift, she had to get out and push me so that I could bump-start us and get us going. Not just once, but a few times that night.

Another time, I was trying to do the whole dinner and a movie thing. So I met the girl at a local restaurant and then walked next door to the theatre. Things were actually going really well, until the huge Taco-Bell feast I'd eaten for lunch that day kicked in. I was bloated, my stomach was cramping and if I didn't release some pressure, I would have probably exploded. I didn't dare get up to go to the bathroom; I was sure that if I'd have gotten out of my seat, I would have blown this girls hair back with the enormous fart that was brewing inside of me. Instead, I started letting out small silent farts which I would have gotten away with if they hadn't smelled like pure death wrapped in stink sauce. I probably let out about five farts before the girl looked at me in horror. I tried blaming it on the guy behind me, which would have also worked if he didn't whisper loudly to his wife "someone in here stinks!" and quickly moved to the other side of the room. Needless to say, she never returned my call the next day.

Dating sucks... but sometimes it turns out alright, even if there is no "spark". If nothing else, at least you get some great stories out of it.

In 1992 I was 18 years old and stationed in Korea on a little known base named Camp Greaves. It was a lonely little base across the Imjin river and about three miles south of the DMZ (Demilitarized Zone). It was so close to North Korea that I could literally see it from my barracks window and hear the constant stream of propaganda they blared at us 18 hours a day. During my stay there though, I was fortunate enough to be sent down to Yongsan Army base in Seoul for a month to attend E.M.T (Emergency Medical Technician) school. I met up with some great guys there and we spent our days in class, our night's as drunk as college freshmen while partying with people from all over the world, and at the end we all somehow passed the course with flying colors.

One night out on the town, my buddy "Ace" (I don't think I ever knew his real name) started talking to this girl. She stayed with us for a couple of hours and finally had to go home. The whole thing is kind of blurry as I was probably pretty drunk at the time, but somehow I got hooked up with the girl's friend for a double (blind) date the next day.

The next afternoon I got ready and called Ace who was probably hung-over and told me that he wasn't going. Call it curiosity, or maybe I didn't want to disappoint the ladies; but for some reason, I decided to go anyhow.

I showed up at the restaurant we were all supposed to meet at and somehow found the girls. I was surprised to see the girl that showed up as my date was really very pretty, but that fact was quickly overshadowed by the realization that neither of the girls spoke any English. I somehow explained to them that Ace wasn't going to be there (with some elaborate sign language if I remember right), at which point I was fully expecting the girls to cancel. Surprisingly, they still wanted to go. We left the restaurant, hopped on a bus and since we really couldn't communicate, I had absolutely no idea where we were going as we went further and further into the city.

The worst thing about dating for me was the uncomfortable, awkward silences. Things might be going fantastic when all of the sudden the conversation just drops dead. You both feel awkward and start clutching at straws thinking of the right things to say. Uncomfortable, awkward silence would be the best words I can think of to sum up almost this entire day.

On the bus, the girls sat together on a seat across from me and we just kind of smiled nervously at each other for what seemed like hours. The girl I was originally supposed to have the date with (Seung Eun) had brought a little notebook along with her that had a bunch of English phrases in it, and since I think she was trying to learn the language, she would break the uncomfortable silence every now and then with a phrase from the book. Most of them were pretty normal like "Where are you from in America?", "Do you like the rock and roll music?", and some were a little off the wall and kind of spooky like "What is your blood type?". I'd answer, they'd say "Ooohhh....", smile and nod their heads at me, and then flip through the little notebook furiously trying to figure out just what in the hell I'd just said to them.

After about an hour of driving through the city, we finally arrived at a place in Seoul called "Lotte World" which is pretty much the Korean equivalent of Disneyland.

Once we got to Lotte World, the date actually kind of picked up. The girls took it upon themselves to teach me the Korean words for a lot of things, and having stuff to do actually lessened the moments of uncomfortable awkwarness.

When we finally left the park, the girls took me to a restaurant outside of a University somewhere close to Lotte World. I was probably the only non-Korean person around for miles and was getting some pretty strange looks from the locals. The girls ordered for me, and while we were waiting for our food, Seung Eun pulled out a small stack of pictures and asked me to pick one out that I liked. There were a bunch of pictures in that stack, but the one that caught my eye was of her in a traditional Korean outfit, somehow I felt it was appropriate after this whole strange day. She seemed a little surprised that I liked that one, but then gave it to me to keep nonetheless.

She also gave me a paper that she must have written the night before on how to call her. There were step by step instructions on what I was supposed to say in Korean, what her mother would say, then what I'd say, then what her mother would say, etc... It was very precise, and at the time she gave it to me, it looked like I could totally handle speaking to her Mom in a foreign language. I think she even practiced it once or twice with me.

After that, the date ended, we said our good-bye's and I headed back to my barracks. I was surprised that despite the awkwardness and the language barrier, I really did have a good time, and couldn't wait to see Seung Eun again. I told the guys about my day and I think Ace was actually a little bummed he didn't go.

Not to long after our date though, my class ended and I was sent back up north to Camp Greaves.

I returned to Seoul a couple of weeks later on a weekend pass. I was eager to see her again and tried calling using the telephone instructions she had given me, and this is kind of how the conversation went:

Me (very slow and precise): "Seung Euni iseum Ni kka?"

Whoever Answered the phone (very loud and very fast): "wzesxrd ctfvgbu yhnjmias lkn'm;gjfdljl dfhs dkljfhsnhc kljsdfkls ;jksldfkj9o3450 sl;djfsl;fj cvbcvbc ddfgedtyjoljkj ghjghj f sfdssdf ; OPN LDFJSFHSkjh sdkjsdf kldjsdf lhsdfh zxcxzflk bkljsdfkj d sdfsklYYdfsdfklj lksdfklsdhfsdf osdfi"

I listened for a few heartbreaking moments as the person on the other end rattled on and on incoherently. I couldn't match anything they were saying to the paper Seung Eun had given me. Looking back on this, I could have dialed a wrong number, I could have been listening to a very upset mother or for all I know, it could have been Seung Eun... excited to finally hear from me. Whoever it was, I finally just hung up the phone. I kept the paper in my wallet for a long time, fully intending to call her again one day when I was back in Seoul, but I never did and I never saw her again. Although I can't see anyone being heartbroken over a big goofy guy like me, I felt bad when I left Korea a few months later for not trying harder to get in touch with her again.

Until now, I actually hadn't given much thought to that day in the 14 years since. It came to mind again the other night after Jodie and I were finishing off a "box" of wine and reminiscing about bad or weird dates we'd both been on before finally meeting each other. I kept the instructions Seung Eun wrote and the picture she gave me in my Korea photo album. Every now and then I run across them and laugh. It really was a fun day.

So wherever you are now Seung Eun and friend... thanks for giving this big goofy American a great date, a fun day and a fond memory. I hope you're both doing well and I really am sorry that I didn't try calling again before I left your country.

Cheers!

Tonight I was watching T.V and ran across a program about the medicinal properties of marijuana. Marijuana has gotten a bad rap and I think the people that argue for it are partly to blame. If you're going on national T.V to discuss the "medicinal" properties of a drug, how about dressing like a professional rather than someone that just stepped out of a Phish concert? Your dreadlocks aren't helping your case with the American public, hippy! That's besides my point though.

So I'm watching this guy, Moondoggy or Sunshine... or whatever the hell this guys name is rattle on and on about its use in Cancer, glaucoma and AIDS patients but you never hear someone discuss the greatest thing marijuana does for you... laughter. I've personally been helped by marijuana in this way. The following story is true, only the names have been left out to protect the innocent.

The year was 1993. I was a nineteen-year-old Army medic attached to a platoon of engineers in Mogadishu, Somalia during Operation Restore Hope. Our main mission was acting as the QRF (Quick Reaction Force), an Infantry company that stayed ready 24 hours a day to respond to any incident in the city at a moments notice.

There were three Infantry companies that would take this mission for a week at a time and then switch to the next company. My platoon had three squads that did the same. I was the only medic attached to my platoon, so anytime the QRF got called out, I made sure and go with them. That meant I stayed ready to move out 24 hours a day for the entire duration of our deployment, rather than have two weeks off at a time to kind of relax. This was kind of a unique position I put myself in since I don't think a whole lot of other people in my unit saw as much action as I did.

During our deployment I was involved in five firefights against armed Somali clans, including the firefight of October 3rd and 4th (12 years ago today), featured in the movie "Black Hawk Down". I saw and did a lot of things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime and came close to being killed more times than I can or want to remember.

After about three months of this, I was a nervous wreck. I had trouble sleeping (mainly from nightmares), my hands would shake uncontrollably for short periods of time and I would duck and cover at any loud noise. I think my platoon sergeant recognized the problems I was having, so finally he came to me and said, "Doc, you're going to Kenya for a few days R&R". I argued that I was the only medic for the platoon, but he insisted and assured me that the medics for the infantry battalion we were assigned to could cover me. So off I went to Mombassa, Kenya.

I stayed at a pretty cool hotel there called "The Reef". After three months of sleeping on a cot in a big 30-man room with the constant threat of being called out on a mission or being hit with mortar rounds, this place felt like heaven.

I think it was the second night we were there that I stopped by my friend's room next door. I walked in and was immediately hit in the face with a thick cloud of marijuana smoke, more specifically, hash. My buddy passed the joint to me and without thinking twice, I hit it hard.

Now I'd smoked weed before, but it was nothing like this. This joint definitely grabbed me by the boo-boo and shook me around. I felt like I was twelve feet tall walking around the hotel room staring through people's souls, and I probably looked like the Joker from Batman with the smile I had plastered to my face.

We sat on the balcony of our second floor room all night drinking beers and smoking hash until the sun came up the next morning. The only thing I kept thinking was "I'm stoned out of my mind in a place where people carry baskets on their heads and there are monkeys running around!"

About the time the sun started to rise we started hearing this really strange noise from the floor below us.

Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump

My buddy looked at me and said in a really relaxed, stoned voice "What... is that noise?" We soon figured out that it was the treadmill in an exercise room right below us and I said "You run... and you run, and you run and you run... and you don't get anywhere" and we all kind of laughed.

Not to long after that, the kind of hunger you only get from sitting on a balcony smoking hash all night struck us all and we headed out to a local restaurant. We were all so hungry that between the four of us we all ordered two meals apiece.

"We'll have four spaghetti's, three steaks and a lobster" we told the waiter. At this point I was still REALLY stoned. My eyes were so bloodshot I looked like some kind of demon and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about being out in public. Just then my buddy Sergeant H looked at me and said:

"Hey Doc! Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump..."

For some unknown reason, that did it! Something inside me snapped and I started laughing hysterically and couldn't stop. For the next 20 or so minutes I was doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. My chest hurt, my cheeks hurt, I was laughing so hard I was crying! Everyone in the little restaurant was staring at me, but I couldn't have cared less. I think I might have even pee'd a little.

When I finally stopped, I felt... cleaned out. All the shit that had built up inside me had been released in this raging torrent of laughter. The stress from the previous three months, all the hatred, all the shit I'd seen and done, all my personal pain from this whole experience, it all melted away and nothing mattered anymore. For the first time in months, I finally felt whole again.

Needless to say, the rest of the trip was completely awesome and crazy as hell. When my trip was up, I returned to Somalia a different person. I'd still duck and cover at loud noises (I still do that), but my hands didn't shake anymore. Most importantly, my nightmares stopped and I slept like a baby. I even felt better about staying in the army and re-enlisted for another four years.

A $5.00 block of Kenyan hash and a stupid treadmill joke did more for me in one night than any pill or the years of psychiatry I would have probably ended up in could have ever done. So for this I have to say: Thank-you hash! And thanks to you Sergeant H. wherever the hell you are. I'll never forget what you did for me. Sometimes laughter IS the best medicine.