First Encounter with the Korean Kind

After 18 hours of plane rides and second guesses, with a short stop in beautiful Honolulu, HI, I've finally made it to South Korea; Incheon International Airport to be exact. Immediately off the plane, I start to notice how humid the weather is here. It doesn't help matters much that my ride to Ansan is nowhere to be found. The sweat beads off my forehead through baggage claim, customs and the currency exchange. My last choice is to see if the man is waiting outside on the street. Sure enough, upon scanning a barrage of signs with a tantamount of travelers' names on them, a young Korean man approaches me out of the corner of my tired and glazed gaze.
"Mr. Gibson?" he asks, in an accent I thought would have been much harder to understand.
I laugh with a sigh of relief and readjust the large green backpacking pack on my shoulders. But I notice he's not carrying a sign with my name on it.
"That's me!" I stick out my hand to shake as he begins to bow. Then we both mimic the other. We smile without need for translation.
"Aesop," he says as we finally shake hands.
Strange, I think. What happened to Testimony, the contact at the school, the man I thought would be here to meet me?
"Jeff," I explain.
"Phew!" He says. "I have been asking many people if they are 'Mr. Gibson.' I am very glad I found you."
His English is better than a southerners, but they'd still give him shit for it. I'll find out later he's an English major.
"I'm glad I found you!" I reply. "How did you know what I looked liked?"
"Testimony told me you were very tall and you looked like a cool guy."
"Ha! So, you don't even have a picture of me?"
"No. Testimony did not give one to me."
I bust out laughing. Fate is quenching my second guesses.
Aesop holds out a hand to direct me down the dropoff/pickup area.
"Here, our ride is waiting. Come this way. Let me take your luggage."
Aesop goes to grab my new big blue rolling suitcase, the one that had checked in at 62 pounds in SFO. They were going to charge me 120 dollars for being over the 50-lb limit, but the broad behind the counter said she'd be nice and let me slide. I must have been the only traveler that morning that didn't give her shit.
"You pack very light," Aesop says as we walk to the black car he's pointed out in the distance. I laugh like he's kidding, but he doesn't seem to be after all.
We get to the car and another young Korean man gets out of the driver's seat to open the trunk. The look on his face whispers business as he introduces himself.
"Stewart," he says with a bow. "Nice to meet you."
I bow back. My pack shifts on my shoulders.
"Jeff," I shoot back. "Nice to meet you, too."
We all hop in the car and Stewart takes us away from the terminal. I slouch in the back seat and rest my head against the leather, thankful every little puzzle piece thus far hasn't fallen forlorn on the metaphorical floor.
"Well, here I am," I whisper inside my head. "What's next?"