"Dude, that was terrible."

Once upon a time in a land far away, there was a golden couch.

"Choose," she said.

I chose poorly.

Seoul can be as crazy as you want it to be. Last night is a good example. I had drinks with a comic from Saudi Arabia and a group of diamond dealers from South Africa. Okay, they claimed to be civil engineers, but that clearly was a cover. I watched a bartender chug Guinness faster than I can chug water. A few South Africans tried to race him. It wasn't even close. One of the South Africans was wearing an afro wig. I do not know why. I doubt he knew either.

The bartender of this pub is also the owner. This was the pub I had visited on my birthday in May and nearly died from the flaming shots. Last night there were more flaming shots and even some magic tricks. Usually, the owner will play drinking games with the customers at the bar. The games range from a simple dice game to Jenga. Watching drunks play Jenga can be quite entertaining. Last night there were no games but some really good card tricks.

"Pick a card." A South African picks the king of hearts. "Is this your card?" the owner asked showing the seven of clubs. When the South African replied, "no," the owner repeated the process revealing three other cards that were not the king of hearts. He then discarded the rest of the deck and placed the four cards he had revealed face down on the bar. The bottom card was the king of hearts. It was pretty impressive.

The next trick was simple but really amazed me. Taking the deck behind his back he cuts and reveals a card to us without him seeing it. "Seven of clubs." It was the seven of clubs. The deck again goes behind his back. He cuts and reveals another card. "Two of hearts." It was the two of hearts. Lather, rinse, repeat. "Five of spades. Ten of diamonds. Jack of diamonds. Three of spades." I don't remember the rest, and I stopped counting after seven. He may have done that ten times. Impressive.

The blow up the condom over your head race. Again, not even close.

At another bar last night, I met a comic from Saudi Arabia which induced a flashback from my 43rd birthday. My 43rd birthday was the best ever. For a while I thought my 44th was even better, but that was just an illusion. A beautiful illusion, but an illusion all the same.

I was dreading my 43rd birthday. It was going to be my first birthday after my divorce, and I was not looking forward to spending it alone. Fortunately, a friend who worked across the hall from me organized an outing that took on a life of its own (thank you, Jessica). A group of us went to dinner, played bar trivia, visited my favorite bartender in New Haven, and continued partying back at her apartment (uhm, sounds like Seoul).

After finishing third in the trivia contest we went to my favorite bar. We were sitting around a table having a great time when a middle eastern guy approaches us. "Excuse me. I'm a comedian. Would you guys mind if I try out some of my material on you?"

"Sure. Go for it."

"Well, my uncle just flew in from Pakistan. When I picked him up at the airport, he asked if we could go to a bar with laptops. I told him, 'Uncle, that is lap dance. Not laptop.'"

Silence. And then one of my friends says, "Dude, that was terrible."  I do not think I will ever forget that moment. I felt bad for the guy, but I couldn't help but laugh. He was terrible. I give him credit, though. It took courage to tell jokes to strangers. It takes real courage when those jokes are awful.

I am happy to say that the Saudi Arabian guy was funny. I won't steal his jokes, but they were pretty good. Comedy night is the first Thursday of every month. Good to know because I'm beginning to believe that Seoul is as crazy as you need it to be.