“So you’re the one they call Steel.”

I haven’t mentioned it yet, but I’ve had a Peace Corps nickname since staging in LA: Steel. Like any good nickname, or tattoo, origin story there’s drinking involved. Most volunteers being recent college graduates, whenever a group of us gets together there’s a lot of drinking and what my friend Denise likes to call “hyper socializing.” This was even truer when we got to LA, because we were getting to know each other and saying goodbye to America. One night we split into random groups and went of to explore. My group appointed Arni as our navigator, because he was the tallest. We made it almost to the Santa Monica Pier where we were waylaid by bars. That night was pretty tame, but on our last night in the states, we made the most our Peace Corps per diem. A group found the nearest liquor store and did some comparison-shopping. I was captivated by a big shiny can in the
cooler label “Steel Reserve.” I bought it and brought it back to the hotel where I was informed that it was a really potent and distasteful malt liquor. Being the malt beverage aficionado that I am, I said I’d drink it anyway. To this, a couple guys said that if I drank it they’d call me Steel from then on. I’m not sure if this was to be a reward or a penalty, but needless to say, I drank it and have been known as Steel ever since. Possible substitutes include John Steel and sometimes Steely Dan. It became so prevalent over the summer that people who didn’t know the origin started using it and one girl wondered why I wasn’t sitting with the S’s during swearing in. Now, second year volunteers (M15s) use it even though I haven’t met most of them. One M15 actually walked up behind me when I was on a computer at the Peace Corps office and said “So you’re the one they call Steel.” An introduction doesn’t get much better than that. A bonus is that the Mongolian word for steel is bold. This is also the name of a Mongolian rap star, so I haven’t tried to explain the name to Mongolians. There’s only room for one Bold in the country.

Despite being the man of steel, I’m nothing without the love, or vague acquiescence, of a good woman. This was demonstrated when my girlfriend, Nasaa, had to call a repairman for me when I tripped the circuit breaker in my apartment and couldn’t figure out how to fix it. I should have known that running my hot plate, rice cooker, water heater, and water distiller at the same time was a bad idea, but I was hungry, thirsty, and dirty, so very dirty. When all the power went out and I realized that other apartments still had electricity, I spent the rest of the night sulking. I can change the fuse in my apartment, but when I saw that it was ok, I had no other idea what to do. The next morning, Nasaa sent an electrician over. It took him all of five minutes to find the breaker box and flip the switch. To my defense, the box was locked and located downstairs, and had a sign on it reading, “beware of leopard.” True story.