Asian Fetish

I have been accused, falsely, of having and yellow fever, of being a teriyaki jockey, of having the Saigon headache. Let me preface this by saying that I have nothing against the Asians. I love the Asians: great food, Nintendo, sushi, quality cars, electronics, and rice (although really, really, REALLY, painfully bad drivers). I mean rice, right? How can a billion Chinese people be wrong? But I do not have an Asian fetish; rather, I have a female fetish, which is normal. First of all, though, I have pasted in an excerpt about the topic from the book, Stuff White People Like. I thank my friend, Tina, for finding this and passing it on.

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#11 Asian Girls

Please note that this is one area where white women are exempt, but they should be exempt from other things such as voting and participation in Division 1 sports.

95% of white males have at one point in their lives, experienced yellow fever. Many factors have contributed to this phenomenon such as guilt from head taxes, internment camps, dropping the Nuclear bomb, and the Viet Nam War. This exchange works both ways as asian girls have a tendency to go for white guys. (White girls never go for asian guys. Bruce Lee and Paul Kariya’s dad are the only recorded instances in modern history). Asian girls often do this to get back at their strict traditional fathers. There is also the option of dating black guys, but they know deep down that this would give their non-english speaking grandmother(s) a heart attack.

White men love asian women so much that they will go to extremes such as stating that Sandra Oh is sexy, teaching English in Asia, playing in a coed volleyball league, or attending institutions such as UBC or UCLA (please note that both schools’ colors of “blue” and “yellow” are intentional and also the “A” in “UCLA” stands for “Asian” while the “B” in “UBC” stands for “Billion” - try and figure out what the rest of the letters stand for). Another factor that draws white guys to asian women is that white women are jealous of them.

Take for instance the fact that asian women well into their 30s and 40s retain teen / college girl looks without the help of botox, yoga or a trendy diet (future posts). Asian women also avoid key white women characteristics such as having a mid life crisis, divorce, and hobbies that don’t involve taking care of the children (also future posts). Should white guy / asian girl marry, they produce hybrids that are aesthetically pleasing, but are very annoying. This practice is also a means by which white people can catch up to the asian peoples in the population race, as most of the hybrids often act white rather than asian.

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An interesting tidbit about Asian women that I learned from reading the book, Middlesex, is that Asian women are sometimes the "last stop" for gay men before they come out of the closet. The thought is that maybe they physically resemble young men more than other more voluptuous types of women. Also, gay men have more exotic tastes, so to speak, than other men, and being with an Asian woman sort of feeds into that. In order to prove my militant heterosexuality, I am only dating white chicks and black women from now on ... and the occasional Puerto Rican... Grrr!! Football! Red meat!

As I've said all along to many of you (say it with me now) - "Lance doesn't have an Asian fetish; Asian girls have a Lance fetish." This does not mean that Lance does not think Asian women are very attractive (I realize that was a double negative). He does. But it does not mean I have a fetish. On the other hand, I can't explain why Asian girls like the Lance, but it is what it is. Some mysteries have no explanation and we have to accept them on faith. My recent vaccinations included anthrax, smallpox, and also yellow fever, so I should have some resistance, although being here for an entire year in an area where Asian women are endemic does put me at higher risk.

Lance.

It's Business Time

A few bits of housekeeping. I am now Skype-qualified. My losername is: lancemcadams. The time difference here is Eastern Time Zone + 13 hours, and obviously + 16 hours from the West Coast, so take that into consideration if we're going to try and chat sometime. I also purchased a Mac Book, so I can do the iChat thing as well. I have to admit that getting used to a new Mac has been a little challenging, but mostly pleasantly so. The interface is very smooth and sophisticated once you're able to overcome your PC muscle memory. I now understand the ol' saying, "Once you go Mac, you'll never go back." Which just so happens to be the the same thing I tell females before I woo them clumsily, tripping sensuously over my own words. I doubt I'll ever buy another PC for personal use again, and with pickup lines like that I doubt I'll ever go on another date.

Finally, below is my new mailing address. It costs more or less the same to send things (letters, packages, etc.) as it does to other places in the States and the sign at the post office here said it should arrive in 7-10 days. Not too bad considering.

Lance McAdams
8MDOS
PSC 2 Box 711
APO AP 96264

Lance.

26 July 2009: First Week in Korea

(I realize I'm posting this a week late.)

Jess and I arrived here last Sunday night after a 12 hour flight out of San Francisco, then hopped on a bus and travelled another 3 hrs to Kunsan, arriving around 930pm. We were met at the bus station by one of the flight docs on base, Kevin Baldovich (call sign Cheech), and he drove us to base. For anyone who doesn't know, call signs are just the names that pilots use when they're flying, like how Tim Cruise was called Maverick and Dr. Green from ER was called Goose. If you hang around pilots long enough, they'll name you. Anyway, there was an exercise going on all week that had started that very same day.

An exercise is basically where we all just pretend to play war. They hold at least one every quarter and the whole base shuts down. Apparently, the North Koreans attacked us this week. Occasionally there would be small attacks throughout the base. Other times, they shot some missiles. I guess North Korean missiles are like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get. At times they were filled with chemical and/or biologic agents; other times they were just regular missiles. But since you don't know which kind of missile it is until it explodes (assuming it gets through the Patriots - yes, we have real live Patriot missiles here maintained by Army people), you have to fully suit up in chem gear every time. The chem gear is called called MOPP gear and includes pants and a hooded-coat that go over our regular camouflage uniforms. When the missiles come, you also have to also don a gas mask, rubber overboots and gloves, and put on the hood. You then pull a bunch of draw strings to cinch everything airtight. All of this is in addition to the 30 pound flak vest and helmet you wear around all week.

Besides walking around outside in this stuff and suffering shwass and shwalls, my least-favorite part is the drawstring that tightens the bottom edge of the coat against your waist, then swings underneath between your legs to connect again up front. It's like walking around with camel toe (or moose knuckle if you prefer) all night. You never really get used to that. After finally doing all that, you basically lie down on the ground (great opportunity for some cat-napping) until they tell you that things are clear. The longest we were fully MOPPed up was two hours, which was more than enough. Fortunately, most of the time it was only 20-30 minutes.

Jess got the day shift and I was on nights, which was all right for me considering the time change, but it's probably going to take me that much longer to get over my jet lag. The worst part was that we could only go from our dorm rooms to the clinic and back, and that's it. No going out to run or even just sit outside. Everything on base was closed anyway - the commissary (or grocery store), Bx (department store), gym (gym), etc. At least someone, mainly Cheech, stocked our fridges with food enough for the week and provided us sheets and towels. I later learned that the leopard-print sheets and the floor-to-ceiling metal pole were deliberately placed in my room as a joke. Before I learned that, however, I just assumed that the guy who lived there before me was getting his Hugh Hefner on. I asked around for a UV light so that I could check all the furniture before I sat down on/in anything. I had to borrow dish soap to wash my dishes, which also was used to scrub my dirty creases, cracks, and nether-regions, which let's face it, after shweating around in all that MOPP gear, needed a good scrubbing. Apparently the crates we sent over with our household goods have arrived, but because everything was closed, we couldn't get any of our things delivered.

When we weren't in MOPP gear, they would also occasionally bring in fake patients for us to see. Since they don't have our credentialing paperwork, much less have it processed, Jess and I can't see real patients. The fake patients usually came in with gunshot wounds, broken bones, an occasional heart attack, etc., and we'd go through the motions of triaging and treating them. There was a lot of filling out paperwork and death certificates. Mostly boring stuff. And taking naps. And doing lots of computer training. And I played a TON of Euchre on my computer.

The exercise ended Friday afternoon, and we were finally able to go outside in regular clothes. We had a barbecue that night, then went over to the pilot bar afterwards. Their bar, called the Delta, is a piece of crap. It's a dingy little building that's apparently been condemned; they're in the process of getting a new one, but until then you enter at our own peril, and that's before the pilots arrive. They have a smoke machine hanging from the ceiling that they periodically spray throughout the place. It was explained to me that the smoke, while noxious and both 100% carcinogenic and teratogenic, is the lesser evil, the greater evil actually being able to clearly see what a cesspool the place is. Yes, I said it - the sight of that place in daylight is more tragic than cancer and little kids being born with gills but without limbs. I was warned not to sit on the chairs because they have fleas, and you have to be careful where you step because the floors are uneven. There are random spots covered over with plywood where there are holes in the original floors; one such hole created only a few weeks earlier when a couple of the pilots cut into the original floor with chainsaws. Drunk pilots + chainsaws = always a bad idea.

(Kevin Baldovich a.k.a Cheech, Leilani, and Val)

After being cooped up all week, we were mostly looking to get away for the weekend, stretch or legs, and relax. I'd gotten to know a couple of the officers on the night shift with me and met a couple of other people Friday night. They'd already made hotel reservations in Seoul, and Jess and I were invited. We took the high-speed train up from Kunsan (max speed 330 km/h), then just hung out in Gangnam, a nice area of Seoul without lots of foreigners, which is good because I hate white people. We took advantage of good food, the girls went shopping (some things are the same everywhere), and mostly just tooled around and whatnot. I don't know why, but it seems that Koreans are really into beer, whiskey, and coffee. And golf.

(Paul and Kevin Blackney a.k.a Clyde)

Before returning to Kunsan, we stopped by the base at Osan, which is much closer to Seoul. It was painfully impressive how nice it is in comparison. We didn't get to see all of it, but the bit we did seemed every bit as nice as Travis (my previous base in California). It definitely should not be considered as remote as Kunsan, and from what I've heard, it very well may become a regular overseas assignment in the very near future. Jess and I have agreed that we will fight to the death to get priority for our follow along assignments if it comes down to us vs the docs at Osan for a position at the same base.

Lance.

2009.07.16

As most of you viewing this may already know, I will be in Kunsan, South Korea (also spelled Gunsan), for the next year. It's on the left side of the map, on the coast, towards the bottom, in the darker orange/reddish area. My sister-in-law, Jayna, and brother, Clint, suggested that I keep a blog while I'm away. Apparently, they find some of what I say somewhat amusing/interesting and/or both/none of the above. In fact, Jayna went ahead and set this up for me and threatened that if I didn't use it, she would do horrible, unspeakable things to me. And by horrible, unspeakable things, I mean she threatened to find me a very nice woman with whom to settle down and marry. I should warn you from the start that this blog may contain content not-suitable for children under PG13, and I reserve the right to ramble if I damn well please.

How have I found myself in this predicament, you ask? Again, most of you may already know, but I'll try to briefly explain it here once again. For better or worse, I had the Air Force pay for my medical school (I went to Tufts University in Boston, Massachusetts) and I just finished my residency in Family Medicine at Travis Air Force Base, in Northern California. For every year of medical school they paid for, I owe them one year as a board-certified attending (just took my boards the other day, so we'll see how the "certified" part goes). This means that I still have four years of time to pay back.

The military in general has had a difficult time convincing physicians to stay in after they fulfill their commitment. There are myriad reasons for this, but a few basic ones are a) people do not like deploying 6 months out of every 2 years to places like Iraq and Afghanistan b) there is more money to be made in private practice and c) people who have achieved a relatively high level of success in academics to do well enough to get into medical school, shown enough maturity (I know some of you may question this - ha ha ha) to get through medical school and residency, and in general are fairly responsible, these people do not appreciate being treated the way they are in the military. How is that? Like an 18 year old who may or may not have just graduated from high school and, like most 18 year olds, is kind of stupid. I know that this is how 18 year olds are because I was that kid at one time.

For instance, just two weeks ago I traveled to Washington DC for a week of vacation. I'd arrived at Dulles on a Monday morning and was driving in and towards Virginia when my phone rang. The call was from one of my attendings. I'd taken an overnight flight. The time was 0630 Eastern. He told me that the hospital leadership had just announced a recall and that everyone, including residents, was to report immediately to the hospital auditorium. Wear your blue uniforms, your reflector belts, and bring your ID card. I told him that I was on vacation and couldn't come in. He responded that he was on vacation as well, but that because he was still in the area, he was still expected to be there. I explained to him that I was in DC, and he called me a "lucky bastard" and encouraged me to enjoy my vacation, which I did. I later found out that they were called in at 0330 on a Monday morning to come in for a random urine drug test, which is in addition to the random urine tests we are occasionally called in to perform, which is an interesting experience in itself. Just stuff like that.

Sometimes called "Operation Golden-Flow," the urine drug test is always a painful experience. I can honestly say that I've never enjoyed it; I've never even come out from it thinking, "Eh, that wasn't so bad." And it's not like they give you Versed so that you forget the whole thing like they do for a colonoscopy. First of all, there has to be an observer in the restroom with you, and this person must personally witness the flow of urine from your body and into the cup. This is a wee bit problematic for me. I mean, I'm not ashamed of my manhood, but I've always had a hangup with peeing when other people are around. The bathrooms without any barriers between urinals? Forget it. I'll go to a stall and pretend like I also needed to get some toilet paper to blow my nose. Really. I don't know what it is, but I know I'm not alone out there. So for me to be able to produce a sample for the test, I have to drink a ton of water - gallons of it. But then after the test, I'm peeing every 30 minutes for the rest of the day and I imagine I'm borderline hyponatremic, risking muscle cramps and possible cardiac complications, not to mention severe cerebral edema with seizures and retardation or some other such nonsense.

So apparently I'm not the only person who sometimes finds the process difficult to execute. One guy I know told me that on one or two occasions he had to go and be one of the witnesses. He then related to me how some people can't pee for the test unless they poop, so he actually had to, on more than one occasion, stand there and watch people take a dump. My friend, Claire, had to do the 0330 urine drug test. She texted me later that night that she was one of those people - a dumper. (Don't be embarrassed, Claire. You know all about my little run-ins with the runnies, and I'm not embarrassed).

To get back to my point, the military has difficulty keeping physicians, the point being that when physicians are eligible to separate, the people in charge of assignments will bend over backwards to keep them. Part of this means giving them assignment locations they desire. Some of the more desirable locations are in Europe: Aviano, Italy, two bases in Germany, and a base in England. As a newly graduated physician, you end up being low-man on the totem pole as far as assignment locations go, and believe me, there are some really crappy places that Family physicians can end up. As a single guy, and someone who dabbles in world travel, I felt that I could not risk ending up in Podunk, Georgia or BFE, West Texas. So, I volunteered to go to Korea for a year, the expectation being that I should be high up on the totem pole next year when assignments are made and I should get an assignment for the next 2-3 years in Europe.

There are two bases located in South Korea - Osan and Kunsan. I am going to Kunsan, the smaller, more remote base in southwestern SK on the Yellow Sea. From what I've heard from people there, people I've run into randomly, from other things I've read here and there, and just because I like going to other places, it should be an interesting and unique assignment. From what I understand, there are two physicians in the primary clinic, one of which is Yours Truly. The other is actually one of my classmates who also just graduated, Jess Lotridge, about whom I'm sure you'll be hearing more, hopefully nothing related to my untimely demise by a disgruntled co-worker (fingers crossed). There are 3 flight doctors as well who primarily deal with the pilots. From what I've heard, one of them may be board certified in family medicine, though he may be leaving soon and that will change; the others have most likely done a transitional year of residency and then were sent out to be flight docs. We have four of these transitionals with us each year at Travis, whom we called "the trannies." Considering that most pilots are younger and healthy, this is a bit less scary than it would initially seem.

From what I've heard, it takes 99 people on the ground for every one pilot up in the sky, so Jess and I will probably be doing most of the day-in day-out primary care for most of the base. Based on pure speculation, and my cynical imagination, I have a feeling that we will see a disproportionate amount of STDs, thus the nickname I've chosen for this new assignment, and the title of the blog - GonoKorea. There will probably also be some alcohol-related injuries and orthopedic/sports injuries. I'm sure there will be plenty of the usual primary care woes as well: diarrhea, allergies, upper respiratory infections, faking it. The usual. I don't think we'll be seeing many, if any, dependents or retirees, which probably means no, or minimal, old people, kids, or pregnant women (most of you know my love/hate relationship with obstetrics, or as I like to call it, OBeeyotch). Of course, I could be completely wrong, which we'll find out together here over the course of the next 12 months or so.

The underlying reasons for calling it GonoKorea, besides the obvious play on words? First, this is an unaccompanied assignment, so it's disproportionately single people, but there are also plenty of people who take advantage of being away from home. It's the whole what happens in Korea stays in Korea thing. Secondly, there are a disproportionately greater number of men than women here. So, if you're a female who's on the cusp of being cute, you might want to volunteer here if you're looking to hook up a few times. Or an easy baker's dozen of times if you wanted. There's somewhat of a dearth of availabe women, and let's face it, men are dogs. But it's not all our fault. Most of you have heard my spiel about the difficulties of being a man. It goes something like this:

Men make 3 million sperm a day. That's about 9 billion sperm a month. We're not exactly designed to be all that selective in where we dump our genes. We're designed to spray bullets and triage later. That's just how we roll. That's also why we're too tired to wash dishes or take out the trash. I mean, I've been working on this post for an hour or two - 3 million divided by 24 times 2 carry the 1 equals some 250,000 sperms. I think I need a nap.

Third, it's considered a remote assignment and I hear that lots of people think it's boring and there's not much to do. This means that, as a default, they drink a lot. There are bars everywhere - on base and off in the surrounding area. In fact, 3/4 of the welcome letter was about the new base alcohol policy. Finally, prostitution is easily available and relatively cheap. Also, some men have Asian fetishes (DON'T GET ME STARTED! I'll address it in a later post). You can go into lots of bars and pay what they call a "bar fine" which gets you access to a "juicy girl" with whom you can chat and make further arrangements. How do I know this, you ask? It was in the newcomer's orientation to the base.

So where did the term "juicy girl" come from? Well, I'd like to think that it came about when a couple of Latino Airmen were walking down the street, saw a juicy girl, and one said to the other, een a theek ahksent,"Eh, Ese! Ju see that girl?" But, sadly it's not. Here's the definition the Urban Dictionary gives:

Noun: a female companion whom you purchase astronomically high priced non-alcoholic beverages, i.e. "juice." Will sit and converse with you in a bar. For another fee or "bar fine," you are entitled to a "happy ending" or "full service." These establishments are usually found in Southeast Asia.

"I heard Joe met this Juicy girl last week and got a bonus after his happy ending."

Which reminds me of one of my favorites t-shirts of all time. A buddy and I saw this Asian girl walking around Boston and her shirt said, "I will not love you long time." Classic. And classy.

That's probably enough for now. In fact, that's probably WAAAY more than enough. Below are a couple of links that I found that have some general information about the base and the airframes they fly there - F-16s from what I understand. It may or may not be interesting.

BTW, this is the South Korean flag. Every time I see it, I get thirsty for a Pepsi.

Lance.

http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/kunsan.htm

http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/agency/usaf/8fw.htm