Sumimasen?

Life in Japan can be tough. I have no idea what I am buying at the supermarket, I need a picture menu in a restaurant, I cant read my phone bill, I cant understand the loudspeaker alerts at the train station, watching TV is exactly that, strictly watching, I often need help using a cash machine, I have no bargaining power anywhere so it’s difficult to talk my way out of an expensive bill at a karaoke joint (would have been handy last night) and I’m growing my hair because a trip to the hairdressers is simply too stressful for me.

Ever had the feeling your being watched? Get on a train in Japan. They have a talent for staring. I find myself nervously checking for food on my face or a massive booger hanging out my nose. I sit there and pretend not to notice two school girls pissing themselves laughing looking in my direction, I ignore the salary men’s disgusted glances and I pretend to comprehend what the nutty old lady next to me is babbling on about.

I have developed a successful tool to compensate for all this torment. I know I sure as hell can’t understand them, but the plus side is: they don't understand me either. It is for this reason I have lost any inner monologue. Its not uncommon to have a full debate with a mate about whether the man sitting across from us on the train is good looking or not, whether we like the J-girls shoes, whether the salary man is unconscious from excessive consumption of sake or just taking a quick snooze. It’s fine to get stopped by the staff walking into a karaoke place with two bags of McDonalds “No bring food”. They stand patiently while we discuss our plan “Shit, you can’t take food in. Do you wanna just walk out and stuff it down our pants and then go back in?” which we do successfully. There is a somewhat infamous student at my school who creeps everyone out by blurting out random words about prostitutes, then scratching at his head and licking at his fingers. A colleague walked into the class-room the other day and said “put the dictionary away cunt” sending me into hysterics. The name on my train pass is Booze Hag, my mate is Captain Bastard and Chris has come up with the best so far with Cunty McTwatface. I’m going to get home to Australia and get punched in the face from comments like “Doesn't that women next to you look like an old slapper in that dress?” or arrested “this place sucks, what do you want to steal?”

Andrew and I like to play a game on the train, its called find the fittest bloke on the train to sit next to. When sober this can be done quite conspicuously, not so when coming home from the pub. We played it the other night, we stepped on the train and both of us ran for the same guy, nearly landing on his lap and squeezed in on either side of him pissing ourselves laughing leaving the poor bastard no space and feeling incredibly uncomfortable. After two minutes of putting up with our continued hysterics he got up and moved seats and we collapsed on the floor. It beats me why Japanese people hate gaijin so much.