By Ryan Gerard
Contributing Writer
I was homeless in Korea for about 10 months, very much without money or a job. It was a conscious decision, a cavalier one, born out of a spiritual crisis; I simply could not teach English anymore.
One night, something called me into the Grand Ole Opry, a country and western bar up the Hill in Itaewon. The place was empty except for Sam Sook, a 70-year-old woman of steel. She ran the place.
``You want job? We need a DJ upstairs. Old time rock'n'roll. You can do?'' I said yes.
And so began my new life as a DJ at East West Club. I took that gig more seriously than any I'd ever had. I wanted to be the best goddamn DJ ever. And I was willing to learn. The pay was minuscule. I would sometimes walk out of there with nothing. Sometimes I got 80,000 won, which was like striking oil.
The pattern was simple. All week I would stay in a sauna, kill time, and wait for Friday and Saturday, when I would push play for the soldiers. This was their hang-out, and I wanted them to feel at home. They all had the same story, but different. And they all told me, ``This is the music I grew up with.''
Shanda, Chris, Travis, Luke, Rich and Rich, Rick and Carol, Josh and Carol, the list went on and on, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had an important role in society. Where? In Itaewon. Doing what? Playing Lynyrd Skynyrd at the right time. Nickelback at the right time. Etc.
I knew what their favorite songs were. I knew what they drank. I knew where they were from. And for the three hours I had them I wanted them to have fun. Being a DJ is a true privilege. But it eventually draws to a close, as all things do.
While I was there I met one woman named Michele. Meaningless flirtations and emails and numbers were exchanged. Fruitless.
In an email to her I decided to pour my heart out, something I rarely do without regret, but had to nonetheless.
I poured my heart out about how lonely it is in Itaewon, how phony bars are, how glad I was to know her for the 30 seconds we got to chat in a given weekend.
She didn't respond and I never heard from her again.
The writer currently performs as a musician at venues around Seoul and can be reached on