Packing Death (Scene from a Stroll #6)
Thursday and Friday mornings find me trudging towards N______ Middle School, a walk of about 45 minutes, a few minutes less if I’m in a good mood. It’s almost always 45.
My main school (which also starts with “N” — let’s call the other one N2) is bad enough; N2, with its enormous classes of obnoxious and unruly energy vampires, the lack of rapport with my co-teachers and the bleak Fortress of Solitude in which I lock myself between lessons, is at present the worst place on the planet for me. If there’s any reason to like Thursdays and Fridays, it’s that the two-day payoff of freedom, fresh air and purpose is close at hand.
But let’s not get too bleak. These S.F.A.S.s are meant to be light relief! Let’s just enjoy the perfect confluence of two backpack-toting units of young males, five minutes short of the dank hallways of N2:
On the left, three of N2’s finest, the embodiment of Korea’s bright and shining future. On the right, their own future: 21 months of compulsory military service, enforced separation (presumably) from their cotton wool-padded world of computer games, “PC rooms”, surgically attached phones, weekends in bed, cram schools, and late-night TV.
I got to N2 early that morning.
~ And that’s all the Goat wrote