About two months ago I’d received a particularly frantic phone call from Henry.  It was odd for two reasons; the first being that we only ever texted, the second, that he called me at noon on Tuesday.  When I answered, nothing could’ve prepared me for the sting of words thrown at my ears.

“Allie!  I know this is gonna sound absolutely crazy, but is there any way you and Kat’d wanna come to Korea?  s gotten crazy.  Kris left and everything has just gone to hell!  They need English tutors.  I told them I knew two really great people for the job, so if you say ‘yes’ I can get tickets booked and there’s an extra apartment right next to Exo’s dorm.  It’ll be perfect.  Say ‘yes’, please, please, please?” 

His run-on sentence had left me speechless.  Kris?  Tutors?  Exo?  Wah?  He’d said all these things as if I’d understand them without further explanation.  I did not.  After a few moments of silence, I responded.  “Uh, hey Henry.  It’s real great to hear from you.  I’m well, thank you for asking.  No, I do not know who Kris is, why he left, what an Exo is, or who needs tutoring.  Would you kindly clarify?” I said snarkily.

After probably the longest phone conversation in my life, (which, incidentally got longer when Kat got home from work and we put ol’ Hen on speaker to explain himself,) I found myself, and my best friend, agreeing to quit our jobs.  We agreed to pack up our lives, hop a plane to Seoul, and tutor some kids who called themselves “Exo”. (Apparently, they’d lost their only English speaker, the one called “Kris”, and it was imperative they all learnt to speak it in his absence.  Or, so we’d been told.)  At that time, I knew very little of the world in which Henry lived called “k-pop”.