Get Lupin

February 2002
written by Lupin

When I first came to Japan as an ALT on JET I was bright and enthusiastic. Unlike some other JETs I had some experience of life in Japan after having studied for a year or so at a Japanese university and majoring in Law and Japanese back home in the UK. If you take time out to read some of my earlier efforts in the archive you will see I was somewhat confrontational when I first began to post here on BigDaikon. I couldn't quite understand how when I was having such a great time that others could possibly be having a bad time here in Japan. What annoyed me then and still annoys me now is my personal belief that many JETs make bad situations worse for themselves (I have since encountered and talked to many JETs who have been royally buggered by the system and no matter what they do they still get beat down). I am not blind to the problems in Japan nor the flaws in the JET program as a whole. I am not naïve and I am most definitely not a "genki JET" either. After 3 tours of duty working in around thirty different schools and with probably twice that number of JTEs I can quite safely say that I have some "experience" of most JET situations, problems and everyday life. However, what happened to me during my second year as a JET dramatically changed my perceptions of Japan and how we the "aliens" are really viewed.

It was probably about midnight as I and another ALT left the local Tsubohachi izakaya. After two hours of all you can drink we were both quite merry to say the least. Wandering out to the crossroads we bumped in to a large group of young Japanese people and soon struck up a conversation. It turned out they were going to karaoke and they invited my friend and I along.

Crossing over the road I felt a hand on my shoulder, turning I saw that the hand was joined to what the Japanese would call a "yankee", a young Japanese man, bleached blonde hair dressed like an extra from "Boyz'n The Hood" but lacking the menace of Mr. Ice Cube.

"Hey, American, you and me friends," he said.

"Yeah, okay. I have to go." I managed a reply in polite Japanese and turned to try and catch up with the karaoke crowd. My friend was by now being accosted by the same guy.

"Look, really we have to go", I tried to explain.

"I am Japanese kick boxing champion", he answered, kicking off his toilet slippers as if to prove the point.

"Sorry, our friends our waiting." I turned to go.

The hand again was on my shoulder but this time it was a firmer grasp as he physically tried to turn me around. "Omae yaru ka?" He grunted, basically translated this comes out as "Do you want to fight or what?"

What had started as a situation I have dealt with hundreds of times before had deteriorated to threats of violence.

"No, I don't want to fight, I want to go", I explained patiently.

"Omae yaru ka?" this time thrusting his chest into mine. "Omae yaru ka?" His Japanese had now begun to sound like something from the "Fight Club" section of the Tokio TV show "Gachinko".

During all this Japanese people were streaming past us doing their best to ignore the situation. This ridiculous confrontation continued for thirty minutes and I had, had enough. Holding his arms to his side I introduced him to the pavement. After being pushed around, threatened by this little gobshite I had had enough and snapped. Pushing my face in to his, trying to ignore his greasy hair and ass crack breath, I told him to stop. I got up half on guard expecting him to come up fighting but he didn't.

"You attacked me, you must pay me money, compensation." Thinking he was taking the piss I laughed and turned to walk away. Looking back he was on his mobile phone.

"I have called the police. You must wait here." Now, I really was pissed.

Eventually the patrol car turned up and we were taken to the nearest police box. After calmly explaining what had happened I expected to be free to go. I was seriously mistaken. The time was 1:00am.

The Yankee took his turn putting in more embellishments than a WWF commentator. Apparently he had been walking home after visiting his sick Grandma only to be threatened and eventually attacked by the big bad foreigner. When asked what he wanted done about it he replied, "I want him to kneel down, bow forehead to the floor and apologize."

I thought he was joking. The police officer in charge at the police turned to me and told me in all seriousness that I should do what he had asked.

"Fuck you!" I replied politely. The police seemed baffled by my refusal to apologize and took me in to an interview room. This time a female police officer interviewed me. After listening to my story she spoke.

"I know how you feel. Sometimes the Japanese will openly hate you, some of the time they will pretend that they like you and eventually some will really like you, accept you. I was in China and as a Japanese it was the same for me, I could tell by the way people spoke to me or looked at me. I don't believe the other mans story."

At this time I was actually crying tears of frustration and I was totally relieved to hear a sympathetic voice. She proceeded to leave the interview room and return to the front desk.

"You don't deserve an apology from him, you are a disgrace to the Japanese." She was, I assumed, bawling at the Yankee. I actually found myself smiling.

Time passed and eventually I was taken back to the front desk. "All you have to do is bow and you can go", the officer in charge confirmed. I reiterated my initial polite response.

The next thing I knew he was on the phone asking for back up to help deal with this very tricky diplomatic crisis. The clock had now moved on to 3:30am.

By 4:00am the back up arrived in the shape of what I can only describe as good cop, bad cop. One of the defectives (sic) was balding, wearing glasses and looked like my Physics teacher. The other defective (sic) wore a long leather coat had all his hair brushed back and was wielding a rather large black torch like something out of a bad 70s cop flick.

"What's the problem", bad cop grunted.

"Well…..", I began.

"Not you", he barked.

As the Yankee again went through his story (completely different to his initial version I might add) I could only sit, amazed at this young man's story telling ability. His magical version of events put even Harry fucking Potter to shame. I tried time and time again to interject when things got too ridiculous. "I am not interested in what you say" was the bad cop's only response.

Once the poor, brutalized Yankee had finished his epic story, the journey from his poor ailing Grandma's to being confronted by a very drunk foreign devil, the bad cop turned to me.

"You are foreign scum. You are a bully we do not want you here in Japan. You foreigners always cause trouble, you and the Chinese and the Koreans. Go home, you shouldn't be teaching good Japanese children." The vitriol poured out.

I looked around to see how the other officers were reacting to his outburst. All seemed to be taking it very well except for the female officer who simply hung her head.

"Bow!" The bad cop ordered.

The clock had moved to 5:00am and no progress had been made.

"I want all your names and numbers", I asked talking to all the officers present. I know enough of Japanese Law to know that as in the UK and the USA a police officer if asked is obliged to give you his or her name and number.

"To foreign scum like you we don't have names", the bad cop spat.

"Give me your name!" I was on the verge of making a grab for the guy's torch and beating him around the gonads with it.

As this was going on there was a noise in the corner, the Yankee got up, muttered something to the effect of "Fuck this" and left the police box.

"My name is Kuribashi and you can go now." The bad cop turned and left. I left with threats of complaints to every man and his dog knowing that even if I did complain nothing would be done.

Unlike in other countries where stories of police misbehaving makes the news regularly, in Japan papers won't touch a police related story.

As I was walking away, the sun coming up I heard footsteps behind me. Turning I saw it was the female officer. "Sorry", she said and walked away.

I never even got her name.

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