WaBar!
Dec. 24, 2007
Author: Alex
It's Monday night at WaBar ( Sunae -dong, Bundang - gu ,locations around Seoul) and darts are flying through the air. "Aim for the twenty," my friend tells me. "Twenty, twenty, twenty."
I sip my glistening gold draft beer, a 6,000 won choice that helps me throw poison. "Twenty," I whisper like a mantra. "Hit the twenty."
Behind the yellow line I scoot into position. I smack the side of my leg with a hearty "Come on!" I cradle the dart between my fingertips. Ready. Aim. Fire.
Miss. The electric videoscreen chirps above the board. Ready...aim...this time I can't miss...I won't miss...I can't miss...
I miss. I miss again. Three epic opportunities, three epic failures. "I hate darts!" I yell, my best impression of a spilling-grape-juice toddler, except unfortunately, I'm not joking. I'm pissed and I'm frustrated, and the only thing that can cheer me up...is free chips and salsa.
God Bless WaBar .
Located a hop and skip away from Lotte in the heart of the Sunae entertainment district, WaBar distinguishes itself from the typical chain through its darts, complimentary chips and salsa, and a deep menu offering imported brews from Oceania to Europe to the Americas and a 9,000 won fluffy potato-fry platter guaranteed to soak up your body's alcohol content and protect your liver. WaBar's no dive; if you want to drink, you'll have to pay. A Hite or Tsingtao will run you 5, a Heinkein or Becks will run you 6, and a Corona will run you 7. If you're looking to break a bank or two, you can splurge on a bottle of Jonnie Walker Blue for 550,000 won. Damn.
But if you stick to darts and brewskies, expect a good value for your night out. Become a regular and the bartender will not only know your name, he'll memorialize your face with a picture of you and your buddies and he'll tape that picture to the wall. If you play the game, he just might grant you the keys to the establishment's fancy and embroidered "house darts." If WaBar had a VIP section, you'd find two of my friends behind its ropes, for the bartender appreciates our patronage enough to slap our backs each time we pass through the doors. It's a WaBar thing.
Expect mingling between North American teachers and Korean businessmen once the drinks start flowing and the clock crawls past midnight. N othing breaks the language barrier quite like a bullseye , which stirs previously silent strangers into applause. "Can I play?" a woozy-eyed Korean will ask; rest assured that your answer, be it positive or negative, will be greeted with a nod and a smile. The house speakers burst with the steady beat of Dire Straits, U2, and Armageddon-era Aerosmith . You'll be sure to appreciate the stay-as-long-as-you-please atmosphere and the easy, unforced mix of cultures.
Look for me there. I'll be the guy hitting twenties.
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Dec. 24, 2007
Author: Alex
It's Monday night at WaBar ( Sunae -dong, Bundang - gu ,locations around Seoul) and darts are flying through the air. "Aim for the twenty," my friend tells me. "Twenty, twenty, twenty."
I sip my glistening gold draft beer, a 6,000 won choice that helps me throw poison. "Twenty," I whisper like a mantra. "Hit the twenty."
Behind the yellow line I scoot into position. I smack the side of my leg with a hearty "Come on!" I cradle the dart between my fingertips. Ready. Aim. Fire.
Miss. The electric videoscreen chirps above the board. Ready...aim...this time I can't miss...I won't miss...I can't miss...
I miss. I miss again. Three epic opportunities, three epic failures. "I hate darts!" I yell, my best impression of a spilling-grape-juice toddler, except unfortunately, I'm not joking. I'm pissed and I'm frustrated, and the only thing that can cheer me up...is free chips and salsa.
God Bless WaBar .
Located a hop and skip away from Lotte in the heart of the Sunae entertainment district, WaBar distinguishes itself from the typical chain through its darts, complimentary chips and salsa, and a deep menu offering imported brews from Oceania to Europe to the Americas and a 9,000 won fluffy potato-fry platter guaranteed to soak up your body's alcohol content and protect your liver. WaBar's no dive; if you want to drink, you'll have to pay. A Hite or Tsingtao will run you 5, a Heinkein or Becks will run you 6, and a Corona will run you 7. If you're looking to break a bank or two, you can splurge on a bottle of Jonnie Walker Blue for 550,000 won. Damn.
But if you stick to darts and brewskies, expect a good value for your night out. Become a regular and the bartender will not only know your name, he'll memorialize your face with a picture of you and your buddies and he'll tape that picture to the wall. If you play the game, he just might grant you the keys to the establishment's fancy and embroidered "house darts." If WaBar had a VIP section, you'd find two of my friends behind its ropes, for the bartender appreciates our patronage enough to slap our backs each time we pass through the doors. It's a WaBar thing.
Expect mingling between North American teachers and Korean businessmen once the drinks start flowing and the clock crawls past midnight. N othing breaks the language barrier quite like a bullseye , which stirs previously silent strangers into applause. "Can I play?" a woozy-eyed Korean will ask; rest assured that your answer, be it positive or negative, will be greeted with a nod and a smile. The house speakers burst with the steady beat of Dire Straits, U2, and Armageddon-era Aerosmith . You'll be sure to appreciate the stay-as-long-as-you-please atmosphere and the easy, unforced mix of cultures.
Look for me there. I'll be the guy hitting twenties.
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