By John G. Warren

  

  

Presently, I am not in Pusan.However, after reading the works of some of its writers, it sounds like somewhere I would like to be.I write today in recollection of an experience I had in the front yard of a Korean family here in the suburbs of Louisville, Kentucky.It was this month, July, that brings me the annual remembrance of an ordeal that has etched my mind and self worth forever.

I am sure we all remember those wonderful Catholic picnics that infrequent the summer in most cities in the United States.You know, those charitable events where the people running the booths are swelling with beer breath, trying to coerce you to take a chance on a homemade cake – a cake worth fifty cents, that to win you must spend over fifty dollars on chances.This particular evening I was by myself wandering about the various booths.My wife, who was attempting to complete her Masters degree, ran me out of the house so she could work in peace.I don’t drink, smoke or gamble, so pretty soon this picnic started to become a real drag.Aside from that, I was starting to feel a little queasy-- for prior to my arrival I stuffed myself with Thai food at a restaurant called ‘Thai Siams,” which was located next to the church.Of course this place was nothing more than a bunch of guys from Thailand who took advantage of small business loans being up in Kentucky and opened a restaurant. To order your food you had to point to the appropriate picture on the menu. 

Feeling sicker now, I left the picnic to make the four block journey to my truck, which was parked far away in a muddy field roped off and patrolled by another good Catholic man toting a clear plastic cup of beer.Being alone in that field, putting on a good beer buzz, he was more than eager to talk the ear off any passer by, including me.I escaped his lonely wrath and made it to my truck telling him I had an emergency to deal with. Shortly after telling that little lie, an emergency started emerging in me.

Stuck in the traffic of parading mini-vans trying to make their way into the festival, I started to get the overwhelming urge that I had to shit.I am sure we’ve all had that feeling.But I had never felt it like this before.There I was, stuck in a row of cars while the beer guzzling parking attendant flapped his lonely jaws.I mean I really had to shit!This was starting to become an emergency.I couldn’t remember exactly what I had eaten at that Thai Restaurant, but it was about to change my world forever.I was even afraid to take my foot off the clutch, less I would release my clinched position of holding it all back.

In a desperate move of Dukes of Hazard style driving, resembling Joe Mannix or Tony Baretta, I squealed out of the line of cars, flinging dust and gravel everywhere to free myself from my trapped situation.I figured if I was going to shit in my pants, I could at least be on the move where no one could see me.Racing to the nearest gas station I pulled around back to where I was sure there would be restrooms.Fate was on my side!I noticed that the door, which was spray-painted with lovely poetry and art, was cracked and I could see the light on inside.Running awkwardly, from the knees down, I barged in the door.To my surprise, there were a couple of teenagers smoking a joint in there. I think I really freaked them out.Some big tattooed Bozo told me to get out and then he locked the door behind me.

Standing there, flinching with all my might, I could see where my life had taken me.It was one of those moments when you had to make a decision.I had to think of something fast.Grabbing some fast food napkins from the glove compartment of my truck, I just took off running down the street that ran adjacent to the gas station.At this point my life was starting flash before my eyes.I was just waiting for the unthinkable to happen.I was just trying to find one house; one yard that didn’t have porch lights or motion detector lights that would expose me.I was really starting to run out of options.Then I saw it, my salvation; a house that seemed to be dark.Large shrubbery towered up the front, which would provide the needed shelter for me to dispel my situation.

I am not proud of it, but I did it. . . right there between the shrubs.Other than a few bug bites on my buttocks, it looked like everything came off without a hitch.Affixing my clothes, and getting myself together, I wandered back out to the sidewalk to blend in with the many pedestrians on their way to the Catholic Festival.It looks like I pulled it off.I made my way to my truck, went home and went to bed.I felt sure that my first experience eating Thai food was over. 

The next morning I was at work kind of reflecting on my dilemma the previous night.I was working at a garden center where my brother was the manager.I was just earning a little extra money on the weekends.As I watered all the flowers and enjoyed the beautiful morning, I noticed a Korean man wandering about the garden center.He spent over an hour looking around.Finally I just had to go ask this man if I could help him.“Can I help you find anything?” I asked.Bowing repeatedly he said, 

“Do you sell any kind of wired frenching?” He replied. 

“Wired frenching?”I aksed.

“Yesa, I need wire frenching to protect my rard.” 

“Oh, you must mean wired fencing.Yes, as I matter of fact I do have some chicken wire.Follow me.”

“I must take action,” the little man said, “Last night a very large dog was in my yard and left a mess between my shrubs.It looked like this dog even ate McDonald napkins.Now I will border my yard with fence.” 

Almost unable to obtain my composure I helped the man load the roll of fencing on his little Mitsubishi pickup truck.It was taking everything I had not to laugh out loud. 

Continuing his bowing, the little man turned to leave saying,

“My wife asked me, what kind of dog eats corn and peanuts?What kind of dog eat McDonald napkin?What kind of person let a dog run around like that?”He yelled. 

“I just think that’s horrible,” I said.“I think a dog like that should be shot!You have a good day, and good luck with your yard.”The little man drove off and I returned to my chore of watering and caring for the plants.Often I have wondered what I was to learn from that experience.Every July I get a little reminiscent of my experience with Thai food, coupled with the Korean family whose yard I visited.I plan on going to the Catholic Picnic soon, as well as take a walk down that same street.Like Jack the Ripper running loose, I shall pass right by that house, wondering if I will ever be exposed.Sometimes I feel like I should just walk up and knock on the door and tell them that I was the dog.I was the dog that should be shot.Instead I just pass by.Sometimes there’s a little Korean boy playing in the yard enclosed in the chicken wire.One of these days I will stop and introduce myself, but for now, I just keep walking, up to the gas station to use the bathroom