1/9

Sorry about the delay in the post, I was without internet.  If you noticed though, God help you. Without further ado...

Friday, or day 1 after black Thursday (the day I realized my iPhone had left me).  This morning our group put on our fancy clothes (I use the term ‘fancy’ loosely as all my ‘nice’ shirts were incredibly wrinkled or still disgusting with sweat and likely vomit from my refusal to wash them after some dance) and headed out to an elementary school to spend the day with some even smaller than normal Japanese people.  The day was long and rainy, but the kids were amazing.  Some observations from the elementary school:

•       Fat kids are troublemakers.  This may come as little surprise, but it was clear, pound for pound, the heavier the child, the more devious the child.  For example, the heaviest kid in the class was the only one who refused to behave when the principal addressed the large class, throwing things and disrupting his neighbors.  Bad ass from the get go.  The next two heaviest kids spent the entire calligraphy class fighting with each other.  A third fat kid threw a hammer at my foot, which was nice because the pain was compounded by the fact I had to wear slippers that were no bigger than size 7 for all 4 hours we were there.  It is now clear to me why sumo wrestling exists: Fat kids in Japan have no ability to control their behavior, and their only chance at succeeding in life is to get next to naked and wrestle each other in a forum where such a thing is encouraged since they spend their lives partaking in that kind of mischievous activity anyway. 
  
• ·      We encountered one curious looking young gentlemen who seemed to have a thinning Jerry curl, the only distinguishing head amongst a sea of little black heads.  He was balding, in the third grade.  Alex described him perfectly by simply referring to him as “Playpen” of the Charlie Brown movies.  I simply could not wrap my mind around this puzzling hairstyle. 
  
• ·      Little Asian kids are the cutest.  To again quote Weidner, “I get why Brad and Angelina adopt them.”  And he’s right.  These moppy headed bastards are the cutest things you have ever seen in your life, no kidding.  I had lunch with a classroom of third graders and couldn’t have been more overwhelmed by cuteness if I saw a pack of koalas raising a stray kitten.  And I am pretty sure koalas are not pack animals.  There is no topping Asian kids.  They are the friendliest and easiest impressed people I have ever encountered.  After seeing the Asian kids laugh at me for mispronouncing “my name is” in Japanese and seeing the enthusiasm in which they played rock paper scissors with me, I’m sold.  One of two things must happen later for me in life: adopt an Asian kid or marry an Asian woman.  I don’t even find them attractive, I just need to ensure that I bring that kind of enjoyment to my life.  It would be like having a pet baby panda, and I am pretty sure that is impossible. 
  

After the elementary school we killed some time at a Starbucks before heading over to an English lesson for Japanese children between ages 3-10.  So as not to exhaust myself on the subject I will try to make my description of that experience brief.  Little Asian kids trying to speak English to me, then being better at origami and games they played with me was too much.  Those kids are to cute what heroin is to drugs.  I know I have gone from, “dude, ease up you sound kinda gay” to “never let Nick around small children again,” but I am sorry.  I’ll end it with this, I get why China has an overcrowding problem.  If I could reproduce children that cute, I would have at least 2,000.

 

The night ended with us trekking through a rainstorm that at its best was horrific and its worse unbearable.  After returning to our hotel, the ever so delicate Takagi Sensai broke the news to us that our Friday night was going to have to be spent packing and cleaning since we left for our homestay that day.  None of us took the news well, but Scrilla took his feelings to a whole new level.  He pounded a bottle of Vodka by himself, spit on a few vending machines, and passed out on the common room couch while full body snoring so violently I wondered if he was sleeping through a seizure. 

After retiring to bed I woke up at some godawful hour of the night to what sounded like 5,000 storming through my hall while screaming as if they were on fire.  And not like “ouch my hair caught on fire” but “OH MY GOD IM ENGULFED IN FLAMES THIS IS THE END” on fire.  After being certain I heard a slaying directly outside my door, I pulled a sheet over my head, got in the fetal position and found God as quickly as possible while preparing myself for the end.  It turns out it was just the girls from our program drunkenly returning from their night and paying us back for the never-ending elevator rides we have so courteously given them (they are on the top floor, we are on 2, and never leave the elevator without pressing the button for every other floor).  So yeah, it was nice to know that when shit goes down (you know, shit like three stupid drunk girls making a point) my best defense is to curl up in a ball and hold back tears.  Real tough.  Anyways, girls I send you this message: your payback will not end quickly, nor will you enjoy it.

This is the most emasculating post ever.