|Earth - 250 Million Years Ago (or last night)|
As a child, my family was very active in the church and led a number of missions to third-world countries like Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. I can truthfully say than my family’s home movies include hours of one-lane mountain roads, one-room churches, one-party governments, and jungle rot. Suffice to say I know something of third-world life.
Training with Master Chun Sik Kim should require driving to class in a special DeLorean with the time circuits stuck on the second century … of Pangea. Class takes place in a land before time where the average temperature of the room is measured in pass-out per hour.
Now I wouldn't want anyone to accuse me of minimizing the hardships of actually living in an underdeveloped nation, but by the same token, a karate class under the direction of Master Kim comes with all the glory of a rookie on the Giza Pyramids project. Of course, the Giza slaves at least had some idea of when they would be done - I mean, as each stone is placed you have some notion of how much is left. I’m not sure Master Kim was ever introduced to western-world concepts of “done,” “give up,” or “mommy”.
There is an evil clock in the back of the room to which one must avoid even the slightest glance. This clock is not your friend, it lies to you. The movement of the hands is totally arbitrary; they slow down, they stop. Glance away and they skip backwards. Not that any of this matters, as Kim can’t tell time!
It doesn’t help that the ceiling fans in the training rooms are holographic projections. They have to be. There is no way that a physical object can move at that apparent rate of speed and produce absolutely no movement of air. If you’ll pardon my social faux pas, class is the only time where one looks forward to neighbor breaking wind, merely for the accompanying gentle breeze. You take what you can get.
Recently, I trained with Master Kim on a floor so hard that when a girl next to me dropped her diamond earring it cracked in two. The surface of the floor caused your feet to stick like flypaper, so that if you got used to the concussion pain in your knees you then had to deal with the flaps of newly shorn skin on the bottoms of your feet from where your callouses used to be.
Oh yeah, this is first world training.
The worst part is, I can’t wait until the next class. I want this. I need this.