Sayonara, Summer!

This is the last night before I’m back in the swing of things…yes, technically it’s just the weekend and my summer vacation summed up on Tuesday and I’ve just been coasting on Work Days. However, I’m happy to take a weekend and rename it “holiday.” Life’s little victories. 

I’ve had a very interesting “holiday.” Due to laziness, Saturday evening took a propitious turn of events. And this time, it wasn’t my laziness! James, fellow Kitakami NS, sent me a message asking if I could pick him up from the Kitakami shinkansen eki because he didn’t want to walk to his house from the Murasakino eki. So, naturally, because I’m a wonderful person, I went and picked him up. I wasn’t feeling my tip-top because I hadn’t eaten (sometimes, it’s just too hot) so I threw on some loose clothes and the zori I bought for Michinoku Geino Matsuri. I wasn’t going to walking around or seen by anyone who matters, so why not? 

We pulled up to James’ place when suddenly, he realized: no key. He tore his stuff apart. No key. He called the people he saw over vacation to ask if they’d seen it. No key. Finally, he called the Emergency Contact to see if someone could let him in. No luck. Instead, it was resolved that the Contact would call the Real Estate agent in the morning and maybe James would get into his place on Monday. So, sleep over!

But wait…what’s that? Taiko? Singing? Upon further investigation, there was a neighborhood Bon Odori Matsuri in town…a dance festival! James and I sauntered up and saw about 30 people, old and young, yukata and no, food, drinks and in the center of it all, a raised platform with a man beating a taiko. As I mentioned previously, Japanese festivals involve a sort of walking/dancing hybrid. Strangely enough, everyone wore numbers. James and I stood to the side and just sort of watched…until a nice old man came over with numbers of our own and sort of ushered us into the dancing circle. 

The women were very kind! I fell in behind a woman in a green and white yukata and tried to keep up with the dance. It was pretty tricky with the changing directions and backwards steps but then oh happy day: they played my song! One of the ones I heard at the Kitakami Matsuri and quickly learned! So I strutted my best Japanese stuff and rocked it out! 

When the song finished, James and I took a well-deserved break with cold tea and beer. And within moments, we were instant celebrities. The MC put a microphone up to us and asked us where we were from…at least I’m kind of sure that’s what he wanted to know. Either way, suddenly, every drunken man in the party wanted to talk to us. One very old and very drunken man kept taking our picture with his disposable camera (adorable) as his beleaguered grandson tried to keep him on his feet (awkward). 

Then we headed over to the food stand. It was a very casual affair…while we stood and looked at the foodstuffs, a few more guys approached us: one had beer. Free beer! Unfortunately, I was driving and Japan has a STRICT no-driving policy when it comes to imbibing. It was hilarious, though, watching James try to keep up with the Japanese men. His excuse was “the beer was cold.” Wuss. 

As we stood, we talked to the men. They went between asking us about where we were from and why we were there and giving us more free food. The best part of talking to these men was not how surprisingly good their English was, but when they asked us if we liked sausage. Japanese “sausage” is basically hot dog and while we knew what they were talking about, copious amounts of beer usually means debauchery is about to ensue. While we insisted we knew about Japanese sausage, these men decided they had to explain. And that is when one man leaned over and gestured to his friend’s groin and with both index fingers about a foot apart, measured his friends’ manhood. 

Mmm. Japanese sausage.

I just about lost it with shock, embarrassment and hilarity. James, on the other hand, nearly choked on his beer while they all laughed hysterically. 

While we talked, the men explained that at the end of the night, there would be a raffle for prizes…hence the numbers! “Wait, wait!” They told us, and so we waited. While we talked, people mingled around us, coming and going inexplicably after not-so-discreetly glancing at our numbered backs. At one point, the very drunk little man came back and asked us where we were from. 

“New Zealand,” said James. Drunk Little Man cheers and grasps James’ hand in a handshake. 

“America,” I said with a smile. DLM suddenly crosses his arms and shakes his head while everyone laughs. Oh, great, I think. But surprisingly, they follow up by asking where in America. I figure I’d play the judicial card and go with something I know my students like: 

“Washington, D.C.” Suddenly, DLM is very happy, shaking my hand and laughing: “Obama! Obama!”

Night officially saved. 

At last, it was time for the raffle. If you have more than a couple brain cells knocking around upstairs, you’ll see where this is going. James and I shamelessly won a ton of loot! At first, it was a box for me and a bag for him, but then another winner gave me his case of microwaveable yakisoba, and then boxes of tissues stacked on top of that. 

When we finally said thank you and good night to everyone and got home, we unwrapped our goodies like it was Christmas! James had a bunch of kitchen things like plastic wrap, an onigiri case and the like. I found beer glasses in my box! 

All in all, not a bad night. And this morning, James was finally let back into his apartment after we waited outside his place for an hour for the key-guy from the real estate agency. Happy endings are happy! 

Happy Endings also tend to involve "dhicken"