The Swamp Assed English Teacher In The Oasis Of Cool

I arrive at the train station disheveled, red and sopping wet. It’s once again summer in Japan which leaves me wondering why stores bother selling clothes in August and, better yet, why Japanese people seem to wear MORE of them during these hot, humid months. I gaze at the layers, the gloves and the scarves in amazement as I tug at my tank top. The words “dry” and “cool” have vanished from my vocabulary only to be replaced by gasps of agony as the sun radiates beams that scorch my pale, Irish, freckle-prone flesh. My cheeks have flushed to a dark scarlet color that would rival any transvestite’s makeup and I am sweating in places I wasn’t aware had sweat glands.

Dripping, I find solace in the train station convenience store; fully stocked with gifts, cookies, cakes, ice cream, sushi, a multitude of tangerine themed-paraphernalia, various flavors of red bean everything, odd flavors of gum, magazines with scantily clad women, washcloths and beer, the store has one thing that is more precious than any, or all of these things combined: the store, above all, is cold. I push the button that controls the automatic door and it slides open granting me entrance to the joyous igloo.

I hurry over to the refrigerated section, wringing out my hands, clothes and hair, to try to see how much of myself I can stuff into the freezer next to the green tea ice cream only to find that other wise folk have discovered the Oasis Of Cool as well.

To my chagrin I hear name. Whispered again and again there is no mistake. I turn to my left to see four tall high school boys huddled next to the onigiri. They are stealing glances at me and muttering amongst themselves.

I wipe my sweat mustache from my face, attempt to ignore my bangs clinging unbecomingly to my soggy forehead and turn around to say hello.

More muttering occurs paired with awkward smiles all around.

“Wow. She looks hot.”

Whilst the word “hot” in English has several meanings, in Japanese there is no such thing. They’ve noticed the American doesn’t handle the heat particularly well and are grinning in amusement as I melt before them. For some reason even though I am dressed in a tank top and cropped jeans, they, in their long sleeved, full ensemble tracksuits that would make Grandmaster Flash, or a bunch of chavs proud, appear pristine, dry and entirely comfortable.

“Yep. It’s hot, isn’t it?” I say. I make a teensy bit more conversation as they shuffle backwards nervously into the precisely wrapped rolls of sushi with each progressive question in English.

I finally excuse myself, leaving behind a small lake of heat-induced sweat, nervous perspiration and my sodden dignity combined.

** Apologies for the prolonged, unexplained absence. After about 2.5 weeks as an Airconditioned New York Princess the “Love Princess” has welcomed me back with open arms, prominent swamp ass and a sweaty upper lip. Ah, tis good to be back, although New York was a blast.

You will all be sorely missed. As will things like this:

delicious tacoy goodness

Probably more so than before, and that doesn’t just go for the tacos. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to squeeze in any more time. But this only means that I expect more visitors this year. To entice the lot of you, I have even gone out and BOUGHT an air-conditioning unit. Not only does this mean there’s a chance you won’t die of dehydration in your sleep and shrivel up like a raisin, it also ensures that I won’t make you chain a large electric light bulb that radiates cancer around your neck should you come during winter.

Hope you all keep reading and drop me a line to let me know how you’re doing.

Cheers. Miss you.

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Published:
8.19.07 / 8pm
Category:
amusing incidents, what i call life