Day 22

I went to the Summer Olympics in Seoul, 1988.

I’m not lying.  I really did!  BUT... not as an athlete.  I was a member of a team of college students and a handful of adults from Action Ministries working with Athletes in Action.  The opportunity came about quickly, and I jumped on it. It helped that my best friend Pam and some other close friends were going.

I returned with some incredible memories and souvenirs.  Among them, sharing my faith with Koreans, athletes and tourists; scalping tickets with Pam to watch gymnastics and basketball competitions; learning to use the extremely low toilets that existed in the hostel where we stayed; realizing why there were very few dogs roaming the streets; attending rally events with Carl Lewis and Willie Gault; sleep on pallets and waking up to the sound of golf balls being hit on building-top golf ranges.

But I must say that my most vivid memory is that of being in the back seat of a taxi.  Rule number one of driving in Seoul: whoever’s front bumper is ahead of the other, has the right-of-way… even if only by an inch.  NYC traffic has nothing on Seoul.  

After landing at Inchon Int'l and clearing customs (with armed Korean military guys everywhere), our group was divided up into taxis to be taken to our destination.  Rob Fix and I were in the same cab.  After a few minutes of riding, we began to see the same McDonalds and other buildings over and over and over.  Our driver was muttering to himself and looking again and again at the business card with the location he had been handed.  Finally, he pulled over behind another taxi, got out and began conversing.

Rob and I looked at one another.  We were in a foreign country.  Lost.  Away from our group.  With nothing but a taxi driver and a business card as our hope.  I clutched my backpack a little tighter, knowing that at least I had my travelers checks, passport, and my hard-copy (carbon-copies) return plane ticket home.  Worst case-scenario, I could survive for 10-days and at least fly back home.

As it turned out, our driver finally delivered us to our group.  But that feeling of “Oh, $*%&” still lingers…

It’s always good to remember that no matter how lost we may feel, we always have our ticket back home.