Return Shock

The three of us were sitting in Kim's apartment sharing a pizza and drinking Kirin Lager. Well, I was drinking the Lager and the other two were sipping ice teas. The phone rang. It was Ann, Kim's friend.

Both Kim and Ann were hired at the same time in Toronto and sent to Japan within two weeks of each other. They wanted to be posted to the same town but it hadn't worked out. Ann had decided to return to Toronto a couple of months before Kim did. She called Kim a few times a week since going home. She was terribly depressed. She claimed to be suffering from return culture shock. I couldn't comprehend it. To me it sounded like Ann needed a swift kick to the ass and the admonition, "Get over it will ya?! You're here now. That's the way it is."

The speaker on Kim's phone was either a very strong one or Ann was wailing very loudly. Linda and I couldn't help but over hear what was being said and Kim tried to include us in the conversation.

"How's things back in T.O.?" Kim asked.
"Oh, they suck." Ann said.
"What? Why?" Kim asked.
"They just do."
"We think you're so lucky to be back on planet earth!" Kim enthused.
Planet earth? I knew Japan was on a different continent but a different planet?!
"Things here suck. I want to go home!" Ann cried.
"You are home..what's the matter?" Kim asked.
"It's not the same. Nobody treats me special anymore. I miss the attention and gifts."

Ann had lived and worked in Utsunomiya for a year. She returned to Canada and started experiencing depression. She was an average looking blond in Canada but in Japan she was rated much higher. I didn't think she was good looking at all. She had a sneer on her face whenever I saw her. I guess she would be good for what the guys in my dormitory at university called a "hate fuck". Bear down on her and get off on that angry sneer of hers that some found sexy.

In Utsunomiya, the way she told it, the local population feted her on a daily basis. She was carried about in a mikoshi by the single men of the city, sent secret love letters by the married men, and emulated by the women. Local supplies of hair dye were snapped up promptly upon her arrival in Utsunomiya. She was crowned "Miss Utsunomiya" four out of the two times she entered that famous competition. She was ushered to the front of the line in movie theatre line ups, interviewed on local TV to discover her "charmy secrets," and consulted by the city government for advice on how to make the citizenry "more wonderful." Needless to say, her schedule at Geos was full. She claimed to have single handedly reversed the sagging fortunes of Utsunomiya Geos by being assigned there.

"*sigh* Time to teach another class, I guess. How can I improve them?" she was known to say.

When Ann returned to Canada, she was just an average looking blond again. She had to wait in line-ups, nobody wanted to know what she thought, men didn't race to do her biddinganymore. Her assessment of the situation:

"Canada sucks. I want to go home. Utsunomiya is my home. They understand me there."

Fast Forward to April 6, 1996.

I had never been carried around in a mikoshi in my time in Japan so I can't say anything about that, but I had been denied service in a Tsubohachi of all places once. Now that I was back in Canada I was going to enjoy my anonymity while I could.

I left my hotel room and walked over to Granville Street. I stopped into a smoke shop and bought a copy of The Hockey News and two packs of Colts. I started walking to the Cobalt Hotel Pub on Main Street. I knew my friends would be finishing up their shifts at the bindery and hitting the closest bar soon. The Cobalt is a fine hotel offering rooms at an hourly rate for those just looking for a place to rest up and at monthly rates for those searching for employment in B.C.'s booming fish and timber industries.

Home. I was home. I was back in Vancouver, the city I had always talked up in my eikaiwa classes back in Japan. I was kind of curious to see if real life conversations resembled by any stretch an eikaiwa conversation:

A: "Hello."
B: "Hello."
A: "How are you?"
B: "I'm fine thank you. And you?"
A: "I'm fine, too, thank you. And you?"
B: "I'm fine. Just fine. And you? Are you fine, too?"
A: "Yes. I'm fine. Do you like to travel? I like to travel."
B: "Me too. I like to travel. Have you ever been to Spain?"
A: "Oh, yes. Yes I have."
B: "What do you like to do in Spain?"
A: "There are many museums and art galleries in Spain."
And so on.

I got to the pub and sat down. I ordered a Kokanee and waited. Sure enough my old co-workers walked in 10 minutes after quitting time.

"Butch!! How the hell ya doin'?! How'd the Chinese treat you?" hollered John as he picked me up in a bear hug.
"Ah, pretty good. I was in Japan, by the way."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Good to see you don't have slanty eyes yet."
"Is there really a chance of that happening?"
"Shut the fuck up, dumbass, let's go shoot some stick." John said as he turned to go to a pool table.
"Sounds like a plan, Stan. Whatcha drinking?"
"Sackee! Goddamn your worthless Hiroshima Chinatown ass!"
"Sake? The Cobalt has sake now? Who'd a thunk it?"
John gave his demonic laugh as I went to the bar.

Behind John trailed some of the other guys I used to work with. The graveyard shift had graduated to day shift. They had all passed their apprenticeships and were now making decent coin during the day and drinking it, smoking it, snorting it, and injecting it all up at night. Had I dodged a bullet or missed a ship?

When I got to the pool table John was rolling cue sticks on the green surface trying to find the straightest ones to use.

"Whereza booze?" John asked.
"The bar vixen's bringing it over. Relax."
"You wanna break?"
"Sure. It's been a while but I'm up for it."
I broke the bunch and sunk two low numbers.
"Nice." John said.

The waitress came up with our order of two pints of Molson tap. I paid, tipped and took a pint over to John along with mine.

"Here's to it. Injuns!!! Neee-neee-neee!!" John said and we put them down the hatch.

Right then, everything seemed to go in slow motion. I felt a calm like I hadn't felt in a long time. The closest I could compare it to would be the feeling I sometimes got driving a car at about 140 km/h on a straightaway on a sunny summer afternoon with my favorite song on the radio. Contentment.

I suppose there are other, more elaborate ways to distance yourself from shitty experiences like Geos. You could mop up booths at an adult movie theatre and forget the inanities of Geos pretty quick. You could deliver Real Estate Weekly newspapers door to door in the snow and slush and forget Geos meetings-- ones where you were being berated for not making enough money for a short, ugly S.O.B. who lived in Switzerland-pretty lickity-goddamn-split. Yes indeed. Almost any firm grip on the back of your head could yank you out of the shit if you let it.

There, in the Cobalt pub, I shot stick with friends and felt a million miles away from Geos. The feeling is soon to be illegal.

"Hey! Space cadet! Take your fucking shot sometime this century!" John shouted.
"Alright. Give me a sec. here, man. Must be jet lagged or something. Fuck. You guys been brewing Kokanee with higher alc. content these days, or what?" I answered.

After taking another gulp of my beer, I went to make my shot. I curled my index finger over my middle finger, lined the cue stick up, slid it back and forth a few times imagining the shot and steadied myself. I made contact with the cue ball when suddenly there was a loud shout behind me.

"Toyota!!"
My shot went far off course. What the fuck?

I turned and found Danny standing behind me. Danny was one of the guys from the factory. I didn't like him. I always thought he was a can shy of a six pack. He stood grinning.

"Miss your shot? Sorry about that." he smiled.
"Yeah, whatever, eh? How ya doin' Danny?" I asked.
"Alright. So how many geishas you nail over there in China?"
"Japan. No geishas, though. You? Any geishas at your house?"
"Fuck no, Jimmy. I'm too busy for that. I'm not a Bachelor of Big Bucks, like you. I gotta work for a living, you know? You know work, right? That's what I gotta do."

Danny thought graduating from university was some kind of guarantee of a big money income. I'd like to introduce him to my university graduate friends working as civil servants, pizza delivery boys and warehouse forklift drivers.

"OK, Danny. Cool."

It was my turn again soon.

I lined up the shot and pulled the cue back to sink the ball when Danny stepped forward.

"Suzuki!! Oh! What a feeling!" Danny shouted just behind my right ear. The cue ball banked wildly around the table.
"Look, dickweed, I missed my shot because of you."
"I'm sorry. Please try again." Danny smiled and took a deep gulp off his pint.
"Danny, knock that shit off! We're playing here!" John said.
"Oh, yes. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Bachelor of Big Bucks."

I had a chance to sink a gimme in the corner pocket when it happened again.

"Kawasaaaaaaaaaki!!!"

I put the stick on the table, turned, and looked him right in the eye.

"That's it. Fuck this shit. You gotta problem? You don't like me? I can't take a shot without you shouting in my ear? What's the matter with you?"
"I'm ready right fucking now. I'll crucify you, asshole. Big Bucks Bachelor." Danny said as he assumed a fighting stance.

I drilled him in the gut. He dropped to his knees then rolled onto the floor. Bouncers came running as John grabbed my shoulder.

"You guys gotta get the fuck outta here right now!" a guy with no neck shouted.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." I said and I left.

John and I walked up Main Street towards Hastings.

"It'll be fun to see Danny tomorrow." John said.
"Yeah. Tell him I'm sorry. He just pissed me off. I was having such a good time and he had to go and do that." I said.
"You know, he's not such a smart guy. You should have just shouted back in his ear twice as loud. That would have made him go away. What's the matter with you?"
"It's my fault?"
"Yes."
"What? Am I supposed to be kind to idiots?"
"Just fucking play with the guy. Even he knows he's not gonna win a Nobel Prize for looks or smarts too soon."

John was right. I flipped when I should have laughed and rolled in the mud.

Had I become a little princess? Good lord, three years in Japan and I had become Miss Utsunomiya! [your face here]How could it be? Maybe three years of people either leaving me way the hell alone or being extra kind to me had spoiled me rotten. Danny was by no means a threat. He was dumb, no doubt, but deserving a beating? Questionable. Had I lost my ability to function outside Japan?

My flight was leaving the next day at 1pm. I had to figure it out before then.