I’m sitting in an abandoned staff room with two hours left on my shift and thinking how a year can pass like a heartbeat, memories bottled and stored. Opening ceremony was held earlier today. Approximately 365 days ago I stood at the front of that swarm of students and introduced myself. That’s not necessary anymore. They all know me.
I received an email from my mother in which she declared August to be the worst month of her life; my father taking her to court again was a primary cause. For me, on the other hand, this August was one of the best months of my life. The good drastically outweighed the bad. Certain details I can’t share, but rest assured I had a grand old time with some outstanding people. Speaking of outstanding people, we lost two of the best from Awaji. Ryan and Gabe returned to their respective countries. We’ll miss them in the coming year, though I’m sure they’ll find happiness in their future endeavors. And since we’re on the subject of people leaving, Awaji is finally rid of the Awaji Girls, who no one could stand (in my opinion). They won’t be missed. Oh, I take that back. When I’m in the mood for excessive complaining and cliquey, condescending attitudes, how will I fill the void? Ha!
Relax, Will. It’s all in good fun.
I mentioned that August was a terrific month – for reasons unstated – but it ended in a painful fashion, literally. Friday night Kate, Amanda, and I met for a movie night. We watched Galaxy Quest and sipped cheap wine in Amanda’s apartment. Before starting the next movie, Star Wars, I suggested we hike through the dark, wet, dangerous streets and buy more alcohol at the convenience store, but not before I finished my fourth glass. The road leading up to Amanda’s place is bereft of streetlamps. A fresh rain had recently fallen. Cars periodically rumbled by, headlights blinding us and obscuring our path. It was bound to happen.
Kate neared the gutter, which is narrow and about two-feet deep in Japan and dropped into the crevasse. She popped out unharmed and laughing. She’s lived here two years and this was the first time she’s fallen victim to the treacherous Japanese gutter system. We continued. I was in the rear. I followed the black sidewalk, weary not to make the same mistake as Kate. This was my first time walking the street. There were no lights. I was directly behind Kate. So when the sidewalk vanished underneath me and I fell into the darkness, I was surprised. I plummeted six feet into mud, water and concrete. A tiny yelp escaped my lips. I landed hard on my back, splashing down in a shower of filth. Pain swelled immediately and water swashed through my clothes, down my spine, into my shoes. I slowly rose from the ground and propped myself on the walls. Sound was muffled in the pit, but I could hear the laughter above.
“Really?” Kate asked again and again. “Really?” This pit was part of the drainage system that ran parallel to the street. There were no signs, no warnings. On both sides of the pit, the sidewalk continued. A guardrail was the only indication that something dangerous was there. I hoisted myself up. My clothes were covered in mud and soaked. My elbows were bleeding. Later I would find more injuries. In Amanda’s house I treated the elbows as well as a swollen knee, a banged up back, a huge knot on my ass, and starches down my arms. I was in bad shape that morning, but since I’d biked to Amanda’s the night before, I had to mount my mamachari and pedal 40 minutes back to my apartment. I know, I’m amazing.
In retrospect it should’ve been much worse. I remember considering, whilst suspended in the darkness over that pit, all the things I could’ve landed. If there’d been one protuberance, it would’ve punctured my body. Had I crashed awkwardly, I could’ve broke my leg, or arm, or back. Because none of that happened, I can laugh about the whole thing. I wonder what it must’ve looked like for Kate and Amanda. One minute I’m there, the next I’m not, replaced entirely by strange groans echoing from the bottom of a pit.
In the morning I reexamined the pit. I was astonished at the senselessness of the design. Maybe Japanese people are accustomed to pits in the middle of their sidewalks, but I’m not. For the love of God, erect a streetlamp!
Perhaps the most humorous part of the night was wearing Amanda’s neon green shirt and red shorts. I also wore them the next day on my bike ride back home. I caught a few more stares than usual.
