Guest Blogging: From A Real American Hero

I have an extra special treat for you today! We have a guest blogger joining us to tell you all his story. He is another new Nippion (or whatever the proper term is... this was just a first guess) of about two weeks as well. Would you all please give your rapt attention and a polite round of golf clapping to a real American hero and friend as he shares his story of his first experiences here in our new "home" country...

Disclaimer: The views of our guest today are his and his alone. I do not endorse nor condone any of his comments. I would also like to add that I think all the Japanese women in the Kanagawa Prefecture of Japan should totally keep checking him out. And then marry him! Because I need to make a BFF (best friend forever) out of you!

And here is his story:

Well I made my first solo trip out into the Japan today. Of course, I've already made several forray's out there along with other fellow American's, but today was a true test to see if I could adapt and survive in a foreign land all by my lonesome...

First a little background on Japan... Japan is a an island nation, about the size of California. However, it has almost half the population of the United States and they only live on 15% of the land, as the rest is mountain or something. So as you can expect, it gets quite crowded, but other than that it is pretty much just like the United States... so much so that I've taken to start calling this strange and exotic place - American Junior. Then again, I pretty much call every country I visit American Junior, so confident am I that inside every foreigner is an American just dying to get out...

Anyways, I decided for my journey to leave base and take the train up to Yokohama. Yokohama is a big city that is pretty much part of the greater Tokyo metropolitain area. One thing a lot of people don't realize about Japan is that it is full of Japanese people... and when I say full, I do mean full. Of course me being the self-proclaimed genius that I am, I quickly picked up on this fact, that a lot of other people seem to miss... in fact Japan contains over 99% Japanese people... unfortunately for them, they do not share the blessing of cultural diversity like we do in America, and as such lack many of the great benifits, such as hip-hop culture and an army on illegal labors to do all the low income and middle class jobs that Americans refuse to work. As such, when you go out in Japan, the first thing you will notice is many, many Japanese people.

So anyways, I got on the train full of many Japanese people... one thing that was troubling, at the first train stop, this old Japanese lady sitting next to me got up and moved to another seat away from me... Hmmm... I wonder what got her panties in a bunch? Maybe she doesn't like Americans or is still mad about the A-Bomb? (Kimono Karen addition: This happened to me too! An older Japanese man that I sat next to on the train cleared his throat repeatedly showing some aggravation at my gaul of sitting next to him. He practically shoved me out of the way when we reached his train stop to get out and away from me. I was very surprised at this behavior and thought that I just smelled or something.) Oh well...all I can say is I'm glad Captain Harry Truman dropped the bomb... anything that saved the lives of half a million U.S. Marines can't be a bad thing.

But in a larger sense who cares what some old lady thinks... I'm more concerned with the opinions of the young ladies myself... many of whom I've caught secretly checking me out. (I guess somethings cross all inter-national boundries.) Oh they are appear quite shy, like timid tit mice, scurrying to and fro in the shadows, yet inexplicabally they find themselves drawn closer and closer to the wolf's lair... but I digress... back to my trip.

One thing you will notice about Japanese people is that they are rather conservatively dressed, very nice and exceptionally polite. I did however come across a few interestingly dressed people. While wondering around lost in a construction site in Yokohama, I passed a Japanese gentlemen wearing a shirt that said "State of Michigan, Detroit City" and it had a picture of a big truck on it. I laughed to myself as I realized that I was walking around his city completely lost and out of place, yet I felt perfectly safe (Japan has one of the lowest crimes rates in the world), but if that guy (or anyone of us actually) was wandering around like that in good old Detroit, he would would be immediately killed and eatin'. Next I passed a guy wearing a shirt with a Rebel flag on it that said 'These Colors Don't Run'. Ahh... good to know that the South will rise again - even in Japan. Still I had to laugh as I don't really think this guy would have faired much better in the Jim Crow South than the other guy would of in Detroit. Finally I saw a Japanese biker dude wearing a shirt that said "Fuck Ken." I don't know what that meant - I can only assume he has a grudge against that Ken guy who hosts Most Extreme Elimination Challenge. (KK: Who doesn't love this freaking show?) Oh also, Japanese don't really ride motorcycles, but rather little motor scooters... but if you have your woman on the back of the scooter and you are wearing a "F Ken" shirt, then you are pretty much every bit as much a Harley dude as anything Daytona ever produced.

The Meal. My big accomplishment of the day was to eat lunch... partially to take part in the rich cultural experience that is Japan, but mostly because I was hungry. Anyways, Japan is a shoppers paradise, with 12 story high malls on every block... but for me all it means is I have to take the escalator up 12 flights to get to the food court. Ordering a meal where you don't speak the language could be a daunting task for many lesser men and/or women than myself, but for me it was just another task I took in stride... by pointing at pictures on the menu, I was able to order just like a native born Nippion. To be honest, I still have no idea what I ate, although I think there were some mushrooms in there... at least I hope they were mushrooms. The one thing I was very good at ordering was a Coke, although in Japan they don't call it Coke, but rather Coca-cola or just plain cola. This is one of the many, subtle cultural and language differences between America and America Junior that most dumbass's overlook, but being the self-proclaimed genius that I am, I quickly picked up on this and was able to adapt and overcome for this situation - there by sucessfully getting a Coke!

One thing about the meal... I expected some little Japanese meal, so I made sure I got an appetizer too... then they brought it out and I had more food than I could eat in a week. I was really starting to worry because I thought maybe I had ordered a family size portion or something... morever, I was concerned that if it was a family meal, I wouldn't have enough Yen on me to cover the bill and I'd get indentured to a Chinesse laundry for the next 20 years or something. But then I noticed everyone else in the resturaunt was getting the same portion sizes - and these little Japanese people were scarfing down every last bite! I felt sorta like a sissy when I only ate half of mine... but I'll get them back - next I plan on ordering a T-Bone steak for lunch. That will show them who the real American eater is - and my new nick name around here will be T-Bone-san.

Anyways, my meal complete, I found myself exhausted from a hard days work... did I say work? Yes, I was on the clock for all this... the American tax payer is funding my exploits - quite well actually - I thank you for that. (KK: Kimono Hubby and I would like to throw our thanks in there too! Hugs and kisses for paying your taxes!) I got on the train back to base and wouldn 't you know it - there was one other American guy admist the sea of Japanese... so I decide to sit next to him. E Pluribus Unum, I always say... maybe we could even stike up and conversation in English, as the only thing I said all day that anyone understood was 'Coca-cola.' So I sit down next to him, and you know what this Ugly American pig does? He promptly gets up and walks all the way across the train to the only other empty seat so he doesn't have to sit by me... man, I hate racists! Or maybe it's just that people don 't like me. Seems the only people who sit next to me are kids and hot Japanese women... I guess I 'll settle for what I can get... good work if you can get it, I always say.

Anyways, as I finally staggered back to base after a long hard day, I came across a Japanese Wendy's resturaunt... this was my final test in mastering the culture of Japan. I promptly went in and ordered a Frosty... ofcourse the serving size was only about 1/4 as big as I was expecting... and the pretty Japanese girl at the counter also gave me a strange look (apparently you're not supposed to touch the fast food workers over here - how the hell was I supposed to know that?) But all in all I considered it a success and I am now an un-official Japanese person... in my opinion anyways. Tune in next time when I attempt to become the first person in history to climb Mt Fuji.

Another round of golf clapping please... to our real American hero for taking the time to talk with us today. And if you tell him how pretty he is, he may even share with us again some day. Thank you!