I lived a blissfully anonymous life in Seoul — at least, until I was mistaken for a member of Metallica. Not once, but twice. This was the 1990s, a time when Korea didn’t exactly host a who’s who of global music acts. Aside from the occasional megastar like Michael Jackson or pop juggernauts like New Kids on the Block or pop/rap phenom M.C. Hammer, most big names didn’t bother. Instead, we got aging rockers on their third or fourth comeback tours — bands like Uriah Heep or Deep Purple — and, oddly enough, 1950s crooner Paul Anka. No offense to “Diana,” but it wasn’t exactly the height of cutting-edge entertainment. So, when it was announced that Metallica was coming to Korea for two shows in April 1998, it was a big deal. I scored tickets the moment they went on sale. On the day of the concert, which was being held at one of the Olympic venues in Seoul’s Olympic Park, I met up with two of my colleagues, Ray Smith and Joe Blake. We arrived early and decided to grab a drink across the street at a Bennigan’s. At the time, I had shoulder-length hair and often wore a Me