The Acupuncturist and His Son

The legs of my sweatpants were thoroughly soaked from my knee downwards. My socks were soaked as well. The wetness had seeped through sneakers onto my socks. It was cold. It had been raining all day and I had been trudging through puddles to meet Kiki. She's a lovely girl whom you would adore because she's Italian and never stops smiling. Kiki is fluent in many languages, including Korean, so I was fortunate that she was accompanying me to visit the acupuncturist one rainy night. She knew better enough to own a pair of rain boots.

We rode the bus together from Nowongu to Suyu, trudged through more puddles, and stopped for a cigarette just before reaching the home of the acupuncturist. "He's a good man. A Christian. Don't smoke in front of him," she smiled as we inhaled. Then she dialed his son. "He has a son. He's single and wants to marry you!" She said his English name was Andrew. I was looking forward to meeting him, but was a little concerned about the wetness of my attire, which was clearly an inappropriate choice given the weather that evening.

Moments later, we opened a large metal gate and walked along a concrete patio. Bags of onion and garlic loitered against potted plants. I reached down to roll up my pant legs. This man was about to give me acupuncture for free, and I didn't want to spoil his floors of furnishings of their fine home. Much larger than the average apartment.

Kiki and I took off our shoes and stepped across to the living room area. My socks were moist. "Anyounghasayoh," Kiki said.

"Anyoungasayoh," I repeated. Everyone laughed.

"You just said goodbye to them!" Kiki exclaimed. Warm smiles greeted me. Sitting in cozy leather chairs were an older man and woman, whom I assumed to be the acupuncturist and his wife. Fortunately, they didn't seem to mind my communication blunder. Saying "hello" and "good-bye" in Korean are very similar, so as to forget one syllable changes the entire meaning. There are worse things it could have translated into.

Then Andrew appeared through the door. His hair was puffy and looked like a perm that was half done growing out. He wore a gold watch that was slightly bigger than the width of his wrist. Bling bling! A matching gold chain around his neck. He sat next to me and smiled. It was all we could do.

The acupuncturist rose from his chair and returned a few minutes later with a small red case. Curiously, I watched him lift the lid and stared at the arrangement of needles that lay inside. He pressed my ankle with his thumb and forefinger. I winced at the pain that three months of consecutive daily practices had impacted the ankle in such a selfish way. The acupuncturist pressed the tender spot again.

As I saw him reach for the first needle, I turned my attention to a the television. A soap opera was on. There was a woman in a car and another woman running after her, screaming. Looking for something calm and a bit positive, I turned to Andrew and asked him how he was doing. I had barely said the word "doing" when my eyes bugged out and my jaw dropped open. It was the most incredibly strange sensation I've felt. A needle had been inserted into my flesh and then flicked by the finger of a 50-something year old Korean doctor. I imagine this is how a shish kabob must feel upon being skewered. Three more times I bit my lip and braced myself against the side of the leather chair. I was thinking it would all be worth it after the pain dissipated the ankle and I could return to daily practices. Because after one night away from the team, I was beginning to miss his Colgate smile already.

I know I've said it before, my spin teacher really is one of the sexiest men alive! His kind manners, strong physique, and laid-back attitude attract me like peanut butter to jelly. I just have to have it.

The acupuncturist carefully lifted my foot from the coffee table to the heated floor. It sat there for nearly half an hour. It felt like an eternity because when four sharp needles have been inserted through your skin, you are afraid to move a muscle. It's not like I didn't want to. The heat was turned on so high that I felt like my foot was a shish kabob on open flames. My skin turned from pale pink to fuschia. I'm fair skinned by nature, and that's the luck of the Irish, but even Andrew had to gesture and comment on my foot's skin tone. "God I hope this is normal," was all I could think. He took the needles out and it bled a little, but Kiki translated and mentioned that was normal. The ankle got wrapped up and we were headed out with Andrew for some tea.

Kiki handed the acupuncturist and his family a bag which contained a fancy cake. "Anyoungasayo." I said goodbye for real this time.