Failing At...

Answering the door!

Though if I can share a secret with you, I get a secret sadistic/masochistic pleasure from this one.

My doorbell rarely rings, as you might well imagine, and when it does it’s always someone who wants something from me. And let us not forget the shit state of my Japanese ability, so in this way, answering the door really can be a painful adventure.

But the pain that I know I’m inflicting on the unsuspecting Japanese person who comes to my door is a million times better. When I answer the door, it’s like they’re in a Gaijin Haunted House; the initial look of panic as I pop out of the door is priceless. I swear to God, I’m bringing a camera to the door from now on. One of those instant Polaroid ones would be the best.

Anyway, this post is prompted by my latest door encounter with the newspaper salesman.

I have no idea what possessed me to open the door on this particular occasion anyway. It was fairly late at night, during Obon, mind you.

So I answered the door, and I’m immediately being talked at in Japanese. Gradually a smile spreads across my face, and when this guy pauses for a half a second I bust out the usual “Sumimasen, wakarimasen, Gaijin desu.” OK not that last part, but I do use the first part, and it’s often enough to get people to either switch to English or leave me alone altogether.

So the guy switches to English and starts asking me all kinds of questions; Where I’m from, what I do, how long have I been here, how long will I be here, etc. At first I thought he was a neighbor introducing himself, “Oh, what a nice guy” I thought, and his English isn’t half bad, maybe this will be a fruitful neighborly relationship. It took me an honest 5 minutes before I realized he was trying to sell me a subscription to a newspaper. Then he pointed at the paper and said, “So you don’t understand Japanese words?” then it dawned on me, and I had to let him down gently.

Poor guy. I hope I didn’t hurt him too much.

Although I don’t feel too bad; what the hell was he doing trying to sell me newspapers late at night during Obon, I mean, he’s begging to get eaten by pissed off ancestor ghosts.

And mark my words, I’m buying a Polaroid camera and capturing the “Oh my God Gaijin! Shit! I can’t run now it’s too late, he answered the door already! Sonofabitch, Sonofabitch, Sonofabitch, what to do now!?!” face.

And I’m also buying a fog machine and strobe light to complete the Haunted House of Gaijin effect.