That would be "Wish me luck," flock, in Japanese. I've been silent for a while because I've been recovering from a huge influx of Brigitte's relatives for a massive wedding and I just discovered, much to my chagrin, that a) while I once reveled in parties, dinners and socializing, now I have a horrendous aversion to them, and b) get me in a room with more than 20 people, especially most of whom I don't know, and I'm ready to flee in terror.
That was not a success, so I've been recovering ever since, mainly lying in bed and reading or watching TV and not answering the phone unless I know it's Brigitte.
It's weird, because when I was younger (so much younger than today) I never needed anybody's help in any way. I was great in a crowd, loved concerts, loud restaurants, raucous after-pub stumbling down night streets, but no more, flock, no more. Not Any More. Maybe too much acid when I was younger -- I just don't know.
But now when the invite comes to some function, I truly weigh the cons and cons, and usually decide on the cons. Life is too short. I'd rather just hang with Brigitte in a quiet night home, maybe cooking, watching movies, babbling, hanging out.
However, my life is about to become split in two yet again, when I board the Japan Train yet again on Friday. You who know me know how that goes. 5 a.m. flight from Montreal to Detroit. Then to Seattle. Then to Osaka.
Hotel the night I arrive. One day to recuperate, my son arrives. One more night. Then, do it all again in reverse, except with my son. Doing it with Tai-chan is always far easier, especially as he gets older (he'll be ten this August). And especially coming back to Montreal with him is the best, because there's home and Brigitte and a whole summer at the end of it.
The dreaded one is in the Fall, coming back alone from Japan . . . gotta admit, that's a tough one.
These days, I almost always get "flagged" by customs, always in Canada. Never in the US. Never mind that I'm a Canadian citizen. Canadian customs are Hitler Youth-in training, I swear. The most officious little pricks I've ever met. Like they've truly got to "Get Their Man." Little fucking rosy-cheeked Newfies fresh out of cadet school anxious to "nab" the "terrorist." The Americans, brusque as they are, seem to know what's what. But not these Canuckian clowns.
I'll get flagged and pulled aside to the little room at least once -- it's all so predictable. Maybe it's because I dare to wear a tie. Maybe they don't like that -- I should look like all the other doofuses in reverse baseball caps and dockers because it's what THEY would wear. No . . . "tie" is SUSPICIOUS!!!!
I won't be able to post progress as I'm leaving the laptop behind. I'll be back next Monday.
Wish me Ruck, Frock, wish me Ruck.
Rotsa ruck, Nick. I'm with you on Canada Customs. Paranoia strikes deep. Canadians can say what they want about Americans, but I have always found U.S. customs officials to be courteous and genuinely nice. Besides, they're armed to the teeth. And no doubt know how to use it. Bon voyage.
ReplyDelete- Karen
Yes. The Canadians seem as though they want to "one-up" the Americans. Plus, it seems like most of these people are barely out of college. I don't think I've ever dealt with anyone over thirty, especially in Vancouver. And thank God, the only place I'm going to have to deal with is Montreal this time, though they can be pricks too.
ReplyDeleteOnce I (or my son) accidentally lost the immigration form they give you at the first station, where they mark off what you have to declare etc. -- the one you give to the guy as you exit into the arrivals area. Well, we couldn't exactly go back and get it again, so . . . the little room. For 45 minutes. But at least I didn't have to rush to another terminal for a connecting flight after that!
The Americans all seem to be these pot-bellied, crusty 58-year-olds who like a good wisecrack despite their stone-faced demeanour, and basically, are really cool.
It's always a toss-up on these trips. The whims of fate, truly. But I do not fear the little room any more, for my name is not, and never will be, Mohammed.