Whizz. Boom.
Nate wasn’t yelling “rock!” but the kids went ahead and did it anyway. Grandparents looked on from a distance and the masses ate takoyaki and made appreciative noises at the right times. The lanterns just sat there, doing their thing.
Meanwhile, I walked twenty kilometres in the wrong direction to find a combini, scared a little kid by asking him what the best kind of ice-cream was, and then sat on the grass to play the lets-slap-our-knees-in-time game. iiwa yon, IIWA IIWA IIWA IIWA!
Later I got drunk and started calling a bar owner Mr. (name of bar). He wasn’t particularly impressed but I (perhaps not the best judge) thought it had a nice ring to it. Domo arigato meester roboto. He showed us his highschool yearbook. Completely unrecognisable when compared to the photo but, admittedly, 30 years, glasses and a prize-winning moustache can tend to throw you a little.
Early morning dodginess. Vending machine wouldn’t take my money. Fuel burning fast on an empty tank. The train stopped for 45 minutes in Himeji, delayed. I lost my ticket and had to suck it up and grovel at Kobe to avoid paying another $20 for ticket number two. Sweaty again by the time I reach home, my apartment a sauna on top of the mountain.
Posted in Japan on Monday August 8, 2005.
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You never even “lost” a ticket when you had to go from, say, Kyoto to Shukagawa and you didn’t feel like getting raped by the 2000 yen ticket? I used to do that a bit but have since wised up. Child tickets are also no go these days.
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— Jeremy · 2475 days ago · #