The Infamous Pohang Flasher

Everybody knew about him.  He liked to roam downtown late at night and expose his genitals to foreign girls.  Some friends of mine even saw him jerking off one night.  The last I’d heard of him was when a local hopkido teacher, Master Sim, caught him and made a citizen’s arrest.

I hadn’t given him much thought after that.  But nearly a year later, I became one of the many other girls whose eyes were assaulted by his nude Korean junk.

It was a Friday night.  Megan, Alissa and I went to a movie downtown.  Rather than spending eight bucks each at a movie theater, we went to a DVD bang.  This meant we paid three dollars each for a private room that we could drink in while watching a DVD.  I had brought a half filled bottle of wine from home, and had the neck sticking out of the top of my purse as I walked in.  Classy.

One movie and a couple of drinks later, Megan convinced me to join her at a bar for one more cocktail.  We left the DVD place, said goodbye to Alissa, and started down the pedestrian walkway to get a taxi on the other end of the downtown strip.

All of a sudden, Megan gasped.  “Anna, Look!”  She said.

I turned and saw the flasher.  He was standing in the doorway of a business, tucked away and out of sight to everyone except people walking directly past him.  He was wearing a cloth mask around his ears and over his nose and mouth.  These were popular in Korea for prevention against the yellow dust that floated in from China, and the pollution from the local steel factory.  So at least he was keeping his respiratory system safe.

I wish I’d had some sort of gear on to protect my eyes from him, but alas, I did not.

And what a sight he was.

Megan had seen him pull down his pants, but by the time she drew my attention to him, he was already fully exposed.  He had one hand on the lowered waistband of his pants, and with his other hand he brushed his penis upward and let it flop back down.  Manscaping was a foreign concept to most Koreans, and it showed.  His pubic hair spanned from one hip bone to the other.

“Ugh, it’s like underwear made of hair,” Megan said.

I searched through my brain for any Korean word to say to him.  I couldn’t remember ‘ugly’ or ‘small,’ but I finally did put two words together.  “AGII JOET!  AGII JOET!” I called out as we walked away.  Baby penis.

The flasher wasn’t happy.  From behind us I heard him grumbling some incoherent response in Korean.  And maybe it was rude of me to say, but so was showing his flaccid penis to a couple of strangers.

Megan and I laughed, both amused and appalled as we climbed into a cab and headed to the bar.

(written in 2011)

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Filed under Asia, South Korea

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