Back Into the Fray

Although I had lived in Japan for three years up till then, I had no idea what it would be like to go to Japan. When I went originally with Geos, most of the worries weren't there. I had been assured of a furnished place to stay, transportation would be provided, and all necessary paperwork regarding the work visa would be handled.

To make up for this lack of experience, I decided to go into this with both guns blazing. I would be over prepared, if anything. I was an unusual sight, a man hell bent on shopping. Shirts, shoes, socks, ginches, a couple of sports jackets, slacks and some new ties were on the top of the shopping list. Next up: deodorant, contact lens solutions, toothpaste (I've never found a brand of Japanese toothpaste that I liked), French ticklers, 222's, Gravol, Imodium, and two dozen sodium flares.

I got into my room, dropped the stuff on the floor and grabbed the phone book. I looked up the address of a laser printer place that could do resumes. I cabbed it to Broadway over the bridge.

"So you wanna resume, huh?" the guy asked. He was middle aged with a comb over. Probably the owner/manager.
"Yeah. Could you do it?" I asked.
"Sure. Tell me what you want on it."
"OK."
We went over the usual stuff like name, age, education, and left the address blank. I figured I'd know that later. Then we came to work experience.

"So you worked at the same place for the last three years?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you leave?"
"Used up."
"Huh?"
"The company decided they had sucked all the life out of me."
"Did they?"
"Hell no."
"Explain this to me again. You worked at a school?"
"Yeah."
"You were a teacher?"
"Well, yeah, in a way."
"How about if we put: "Public School Teacher"?"
"No, it wasn't a public school-"
"Oh, OK, "Private School Teacher""
"No, no-it, I..."
"How would you describe the job?" he asked.
"Basically it was teaching. But it was also setting up a lot of games and talking to people."
He looked at me blankly.
"What in the hell were you doing for three years?" he asked withdrawing his hands from the keyboard and folding them on his lap.
"I worked at Geos, a private language school..."
"And you played games? Did you teach?"
"Well, yes, whenever someone wanted to learn."
"What kind of school is that?" he asked becoming more and more perplexed.
"Ummmm.... A Good Times School... A place to go to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer."
"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" he laughed, "I like that. Sounds like a great school!"
I don't think he would be laughing if he knew how close to the truth it was.
"Look," I said, "Put down that I worked at Geos, rose to the rank of chief instructor, and that I created curriculums appropriate for students of varied levels and interests."
"How about the part about 'Warm in winter, cool in summer'? That's rich!" he laughed.
"Naw, skip it."
"The 'playing games' bit? Should I skip that, too?" he snickered.
"Yes, please."
"You're a funny guy."
"Thanks. It's not by choice."
"Can't wait to tell the missus about this. A teacher who talks to people and plays games! Wish I went to a school like that!"
"Yeah, we all do. Can you print it out now?"
"Sure, sure. Here it is. How many copies you want?"
"Gimme 10."

I had passed a test of sorts then and there. I could handle a good natured ridiculing. I wasn't Miss Utsunomiya yet. I had dodged that dubious tiara.

The flight to Japan was punctuated by a mild panic I experienced when I was filling in the landing card. What would I tell the immigration officer when he asked why I had come to Japan? Surely he would understand my real intent? He was probably trained on how to profile would-be eikaiwa teachers: single guy, sheepish grin, Lonely Planet book clutched in sweaty hand.

"The suits?" I imagined myself asking the officer who opened my suitcase, "All seven of them? Well, I just want to look my best...whenever I...visit a...magnificent temple. Yes sir. That's me. I'm just a dandy guy, I guess. No sir! I wouldn't dream of working on a tourist visa! And you can count on my co-operation in turning in those that would! Evil bastards that they are!"

The flight landed and I got to customs and immigration with only one thing on my mind:
"Oh God, oh God, oh God, please let me in as a tourist!"
I approached the steel tables meant for opening suitcases and explaining yourself.
"Passport please." an immigration officer asked.
"Here you go." I said as casually as I could.
He looked at it, looked at me, handed the passport back and said: "Thank you. Next."

That's it?! I stressed over that?! He didn't open my suitcases! He didn't even look through my carry on! I could have smuggled in five kilos of the purest Colombian cocaine! I could have a stack of porno mags and tapes with all the bristling forbidden pubic hairs in the world! I could have a load of knock off brand name goods like Chanel to peddle on the streets of Shinjuku!

OK, OK, cool it you. Just get out of there and into a train as fast as you can.

The only town I really knew at all in Japan was Odawara. In my previous incarnation as an eikaiwa teacher in Japan I had lived in Odawara and Odawara only. I knew very little of Yokohama and nothing of Tokyo except Roppongi. Sitting in the train heading for Tokyo I decided the wisest thing to do would be to head for a little hotel in Odawara that I had stayed in 3 years previous.

Jesus, I was heading right back to the town I had fled.