August 25, 2004
A few days ago I was in front of the Mayflower Hotel, and I do what I always do when I’m there–I look at the area down the street where for one of the few times in my life I risked my life for someone else.
|The inside of the Mayflower Hotel.|
It was New Year’s Eve, I had just returned from my first visit to South Korea. My best friend and I were hanging out with his roommate, party-hopping. As we drove through one neighborhood we heard some people celebrating the New Year by shooting with guns. Apparently they weren’t shooting at anyone or anything in particular, just shooting in the air. When we lost contact with his roommate at some point during the night, we started taking cabs from place to place.
Somewhat stranded at 1 a.m. when it got tougher to hail cabs, we stopped at the Mayflower Hotel to call our girlfriends as well as my best friend’s roommate, hoping he would eventually answer his beeper. Wait. I wrote beeper? Yep, that was back in the day.
We went back outside of the hotel to consider our options. We weren’t that far from my friend’s home, so walking wasn’t out of the question. Suddenly, a guy came running, yelling:
“HEY! THERE’S A WOMAN BEING BEATEN DOWN THE STREET.”