Shirahama, pt. 1 or Surrounded

The train car was packed during the first leg of the much-anticipated trip to Shirahama so we had to stand, flanked by giggling Fem Bots, grim old men and sneering 13 year old boys in black military school uniforms. Our bags lay at our feet and we clung to the loops as people continued to shove into the car at each stop, cramming us further and further inside.

“You know,” I said. “I don’t think we’re making the most of our gaijinity.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sean.

“How quickly do you think they’d clear out the car if we started being really Western-y?” I asked. “Really, I don’t think we use our gaijinity enough. What do you think? How about we start a few rounds of ’99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’? That should send them all to the other end of the train and then we can sit!”

“I think I’m going to change cars.” said Sean.

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