So as I said, I work six nights a week at what is probably the in all of Gangnam. It’s in the heart of the district, and all three major labels are within walking distance. More often than not, spattering of them will make appearances over the course of the night (those who are nineteen, of course. That’s the age of legality here, keep that in mind). I had only been in Seoul for a week and was still living out of a hotel when I stumbled across this nightclub. It was probably close to 23:00, and I was aching for a drink and some kind of distraction from the earlier day’s failures to find a reasonable studio apartment - or a (temporary) job - within the city. I stumbled across a bar with a ridiculous name, but it had great decor, even better music, a youthful crowd, and most importantly, good alcohol. I was in the bar for no more than ten minutes (and was already three beers down) when the owner approached me, asking if I’d like a job there. Maybe it was the shock of it all, or maybe it was the alcohol, but I’m pretty sure I just burst out laughing. I think it was then he realized I wasn’t from there.

“Jiiiiiinja?” I asked, in semi-slurred, heavily accented Korean.

He slowly nodded, now a little unsure of his proposal. But nonetheless, he pulled out application forms, and in my slightly-buzzed state, I signed them all. I, Ju JiYoung, was now officially employed as a bartender at...ZZYZX. I stared at the papers to make sure I read it correctly. Is that even a word? I racked my dictionary of a brain for a root word, a definition. Nothing. But no matter, because I now had a source of income from employment at a bar I couldn’t even pronounce.

After a brief - and I mean brief - overview of company policy and protocol (keep in mind I was still buzzed and my Korean consisted only of words and phrases I had learned from songs and dramas), I left the bar with a lighter heart and a lighter head (not to mention a lighter wallet), and headed back for my hotel. I was hyped but worn out. My first day was tomorrow, and I would need plenty of sleep if I wanted to make an impression.

I showed up for my first shift at 20:00, dressed in all black as requested. The only black I had packed that was clean and were some dance shorts and a sheer black top. Converse wouldn’t do, as company required something more sophisticated than that. So I was left with my black heeled boots, almost hooker quality. Outfit aside, my first task at hand was to be trained on bar-tending before the place actually got busy. I was told to shadow a guy by the name of Jungkook, who was the lead bartender and no more then two years older than me. While I had never actively bar-tended before, I knew my alcohol and my drinks well, and things moved smoothly for me. Jungkook told me how a lot of the cliental that the bar got was the “just-of-age,” hoping to catch a glimpse at an idol or two, whom Jungkook said frequented the bar a lot to blow off steam. There was actually a special area of the bar designated for such VIPs, where they could sip and talk in relative peace. As it was my first day, I was tasked with waiting the handful of tables and bussing more than actual drink making, which was fine. I wasn’t quite ready for the pressure of making the drinks yet anyway. Several weeks of this passed by, and thanks to my personality and ability to learn quickly, efficiently, and accurately, was eventually promoted to lead bar-tender when Jungkook went on leave for the summer. During this time I managed to find a place for me to live (more on that later), enroll myself at Seoul National University’s for their fall semester and find myself my daytime job, through sheer luck of being spotted in a street dance competition.

It was a Sunday in the middle of July, my only true day off, and I was browsing the streets of Hongdae, admiring all the things I dreamed of owning but knew I could never have. A large crowd was forming around a makeshift stage, where a group of maybe a dozen-plus high school and college kids were stretching. Curious, I stopped my window shopping and meandered through the crowd to get a better look. Most of the guys seemed fairly well-built, but I knew from experience that just because you look like a dancer, it doesn’t necessarily mean you can dance (and vice versa).

Seven guys took the stage and got in to place as a remixed version of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” began to play. I smirked to myself. I knew where this was going. The song mashed-up into Kanye West’s “Love Lockdown,” and their choreography matched my assumptions. While there were some changes made, the routine of the seven b-boys was near identical to the SoCal dance group Quest Crew. I sighed. These guys had so much talent; they were hitting the beats hard and on time and their movements were clean and crisp. Some had their own spotlights tutting, flipping, doing air flares, etc. But I couldn’t help but feel bad for them that they had to copy someone else’s choreography for a battle. The next crew wasn’t much better. The B52’s “Funky Town” hit the track, and I face palmed. Again, the dancers were talented, with smooth, fluid movements that made them appear as one instead of individual dancers. But I knew that this too was a copy-cat of a routine danced by the Jabbawockeez. What was it with Korean b-boys and originality? I even remember the idol group B.A.P attempting this routine. When they finished I rolled my eyes and cocked my head, kinda sorta not really impressed, which was in great contrast to the loud screams from the crowd. The MC must have noticed my reaction, because he called out to the crowd if there were any dancers out there who wished to challenge these two challengers. He looked my direction, locking his eyes on me. I froze. I glanced down at my clothes...I was wearing my old dance studio’s shirt: a loose, three-quartered, off-the-shoulder tee along with canvas shorts and my old kicks. I looked back at the MC, who was nodding his head as if to beckon me onto the stage.

“I know there are dancers out there, I can see you trying to hide~” he said in a sing-song voice.

One of the boys from the first group pointed my way, smirking. “Yeogi! She’s wearing a dance shirt. And going by her expression, she seems to think she knows more about dance than we do.”

I my lips and heaved a sigh. God JiYoung, what happened to living a quiet life? I pushed my way through the crowd, muttering expletives under my breath. I finally reached the stage (more of just padded plywood on ri