Sorry, Korea.

I blatantly ignored an outrageously loud domestic dispute next door last night. It really sounded like bodies were being thrown across the apartment. If the cops spoke English, it would be another story entirely, but the last time I tried to call the police when it sounded like a woman was being tortured in the street, I got put on hold and disconnected over and over while they tried to transfer me to an English-speaking department for a half hour before I gave up. Sorry Korea. I feel as if I should feel inconsolable guilt about this, but after running it through my mind and determining my personal risk assessment, my conscience is sound this morning.