BakaSensei
March 1st, 2006, 01:16 AM
I have to preface this anecdote with a little side on my sensei. She carries herself with a definite quiet dignity, common among any nihonjin who were young during the WWII era. For her to become excited while telling a story is not a frequent happening. This, however, is one of those cases...
On a recent trip to Tokyo, sensei was making her way through one of the largest underground train depots in the world, weighted down by luggage and gifts. She was appalled at the fact that although there were many young and middle aged men passing by, not a single one had the time to help her climb a large set of steps. She struggled with her packs upward, moving at a rate of 4 steps per effort. Some teens actually stood and watched to see if she would make it up the steps, never offering an ounce of support.
About half way up, she literally stopped and set down on a step to rest, disgusted with the fact that no one was offering help. In her mind, she recalls an older Japan, where the elderly were respected without question. This point is driven home when a pretty young girl in the same predicament is escorted by no less than 3 young men up the same flight of stairs. She felt that hope was lost until her luggage and gifts were magically lifted from their spot. Sensei quickly turned her head to see a slick, black set of shoes with pointed toes...
and then well pressed black pants...
and an expensive black jacket...
a very expensive gold watch...
a high quality gold necklace...
black sunglasses...
slick black hair...
(suspenseful pause)
It was indeed a member of the yakuza!
He simply uttered "Oba-chan. Ikemashou" and up the steps they went.
After setting the packages down, sensei bowed lower (and faster) than she had in years, uttering repeatedly "doumo arigatou gozaimashita!". When she lifted her head, the yakuza was gone.
She said that, although it was quite odd that only a yakuza would take the time to help her, it reminded her of a quote from one of her favorite American movies; "A Streetcar Named Desire." I thought that was really odd.
"I have always depended on the kindness of ...yakuza?"
On a recent trip to Tokyo, sensei was making her way through one of the largest underground train depots in the world, weighted down by luggage and gifts. She was appalled at the fact that although there were many young and middle aged men passing by, not a single one had the time to help her climb a large set of steps. She struggled with her packs upward, moving at a rate of 4 steps per effort. Some teens actually stood and watched to see if she would make it up the steps, never offering an ounce of support.
About half way up, she literally stopped and set down on a step to rest, disgusted with the fact that no one was offering help. In her mind, she recalls an older Japan, where the elderly were respected without question. This point is driven home when a pretty young girl in the same predicament is escorted by no less than 3 young men up the same flight of stairs. She felt that hope was lost until her luggage and gifts were magically lifted from their spot. Sensei quickly turned her head to see a slick, black set of shoes with pointed toes...
and then well pressed black pants...
and an expensive black jacket...
a very expensive gold watch...
a high quality gold necklace...
black sunglasses...
slick black hair...
(suspenseful pause)
It was indeed a member of the yakuza!
He simply uttered "Oba-chan. Ikemashou" and up the steps they went.
After setting the packages down, sensei bowed lower (and faster) than she had in years, uttering repeatedly "doumo arigatou gozaimashita!". When she lifted her head, the yakuza was gone.
She said that, although it was quite odd that only a yakuza would take the time to help her, it reminded her of a quote from one of her favorite American movies; "A Streetcar Named Desire." I thought that was really odd.
"I have always depended on the kindness of ...yakuza?"