Better than OK in OKC

Our friend Art doesn’t have his own blog yet and needs to take over ours to give an update on his weekend Writer’s Conference where author David Morrell (creator of Rambo) is one of the key speakers. Take it away, Art.

Thanks, Porthos. It’s good to be me this weekend. (I told the ducks my real name, but they said they’re used to “Art” and want to stick with that.)  Since arriving in Oklahoma City Friday evening, I’ve been getting priceless insights from authors, editors, and agents. 

It's also good to get to talk with other aspiring writers. My commitment level to do what I love, along with my skill level to do it, are getting ratcheted up a few more notches each day, with one more day to go.

For an author who is so high caliber that he could afford to be aloof if he wanted to, David Morrell is amazingly giving of his time.

Everyone has applauded him as he enthusiastically runs over his allotted time whenever he speaks, and answers every question with great care and wonderful illustrations. The background stories he’s been telling about his experiences over a still flourishing 41-year career are worth my 7-hour drive here all by themselves. But there are also more than 20 other presenters, and I’m making every session I possibly can.

One anecdote from the conference, and then I’ll move on to an amazing frosting-on-the-cake dining experience I had here just tonight.  Some of you know that I entered an abridged version of the stories in this blog into the writing contest that’s part of this conference. I was hopeful I’d be able to report to Porthos, Athos, Aramis, and you that it won at least an honorable mention. So, along with everybody else in the auditorium, I was on the edge of my seat when it was time for the announcement of the winners. And guess what? I didn’t get an honorable mention. I got……wait for it……..

Nothing.

Nothing, that is, except the realization that I had been naïve to think something that started as just an exercise to learn the mechanics of blogging and amuse myself (sorry, duck friends), would warrant any kind of recognition from professionals.  There are some very good and very serious and very funny writers here. And I do plan to join them.

Now… on to tonight’s dinner experience, because as it was unfolding, I knew I had to write about it.

Today’s conference sessions ended around 5:30, and I hung around as I also did last night to catch David Morrell’s answers to the final questions, which continued as he walked out to the parking lot to catch a ride to whatever restaurant he was going to. Can you believe it, he didn’t ask me to come along either night to chat over dinner about my future plans. What's up with that? So I would sit in my car and ask Google maps what restaurants were around me. Tonight I was struck by one called Seoul Garden Korean Restaurant, which had one of the highest ratings of any that Google found in my area. So I had my smartphone GPS app, fondly nicknamed “Edna” for her constipated voice, lead me there.

As I pulled up to the restaurant in a very plain looking strip center with only one car in the lot, I doubted Edna’s wisdom. 

But it was close to my hotel, and it was food, so I parked and went in. Yep, completely empty except for one lone patron. I picked a table and started to sit down, then saw the sign, Place Order Here.  I was really doubting now, but committed. As I walked up, the kitchen doors swung open and a pleasant Korean woman came out to ask if she could help me. With no idea about Korean food, I asked what their most popular items were on the numbered menu on the wall. She said #2 and #5. I chose the latter (an interesting looking bowl of rice, beef, vegetables, and a fried egg) along with some hot tea, paid $8.59, and sat back down.

I know, I know, why write about this? Because we were taught today to avoid flashbacks if possible and tell the story straight through. I needed to set the scene for you from the beginning, and it also creates some tension as you wonder how this fits with what I said earlier about this being a great dining experience. Well, that tension is about to be resolved, because we are finally at the good part.

The sweet owner of the restaurant shows me their wide selection of Korean tea bags, recommends her favorite to me (green tea with roasted brown rice), shows me where the hot water spigot is, tells me warmly that everyone who enters here is like family, and disappears again into the kitchen.

I’m enjoying my tea when a few minutes later the kitchen doors swing open again and she walks out with a tray full of little appetizer dishes that I know I didn’t order. I know they are not for another customer, because the only other guy in the place is sitting way across on the other side of the room, and she’s definitely headed straight for me. She sees my confusion and asks, “Do you know Korean food?”

I say no, thinking, Maybe because I was polite to her and she likes me and they’re not busy, she’s showing off what they can do in the kitchen? OK, how cute, I’m sure not in any hurry. I smile and ask, “So this will cost me extra right?” fully expecting it to and happy to pay it.  She shakes her head and smiles and says no.  It’s a pretty bare room with a linoleum floor, so sound carries, and now the regular customer across the room who can’t help but hear us chimes in with, “That comes with every meal, and if you need more, she’ll bring it.”

What?

Now she points out what all the little dishes are as she sets them on my table, saying it’s the Korean version of a salad before the meal. 

She’s careful to ask me if I think I want the fish cakes or not, because some people don’t. I say sure I’ll try it all, and I thank her profusely. Was that a slight bow as she turns to go back into the kitchen?

I slowly sample these delicacies and sip my delicious tea for a while and peruse one of David's books. 

Then out she comes again with my steaming main course in a heavy black bowl that keeps it really hot. She asks me if I would like the spicy sauce. When I say yes please, she pours some on it and starts mixing it in for me, tossing the contents of my bowl like food prepared table side at an upscale restaurant.

I’m getting a little overwhelmed, and say, “Now this you wouldn’t do if you were busy would you?” 

She smiles sheepishly and says, "No, but since you don't know Korean food..."

I enjoy the heck out of all the little taste treats and the plentiful main course, as she checks on me often. We chitchat some about how I’m from Houston and about the writers conference at Rose State College right next door. Her daughter worked in Houston but now lives closer to her here in Oklahoma City, and she’s glad.  I mention that one of our daughters went to OCU but now lives close to us in Houston, and one of our daughters is in Germany teaching music at a missionary school.

Next the Korean owner is standing next to me with a tray of dirty dishes from her other customer who has finished, so we’re the only two people in the restaurant now and she says, “I think you are a Christian.”  Although I’d like to think I glowed or something, I no doubt tipped her off talking about our missionary daughter. Anyway, she stands there a few minutes holding that heavy tray and tells me in broken English that she is a Christian and many Koreans are, but before that they believed in Buddha or in some religion (she couldn’t think of the name) where everything depended on how good you were, but that the Christian way is better, didn’t I think so?

I swallow a bite of fish cake that has suddenly gotten a little stuck in my throat and try to say the right thing. I think she at least gets that I agree with her.

I get her permission to use the pictures I’ve snapped on my phone and tell her I’m going to write about her tonight in the first person point of view using present tense, and recommend her restaurant too. She says oh, that’s nice, bows for sure this time, and takes the tray to the kitchen.

You can ask my wife how cheap I tend to be with tips, but I left a $10 tip for the best $8.59 meal I’ve ever had. Also tore a page out of my writer’s notebook and left a note saying Thank you for being so very gracious.