I flew out of Narita Airport on a Saturday morning. The lobby for International Departures was crowded with all types of people. Families with small children, couples, businessmen, and people from all over the world scurried around like rats in a maze.
I felt like a child forced to dress-up for a family picture in my plain black suit. Across my left shoulder, I had my backpack and a small suitcase in my right hand. Before I went through the security checkpoint, my mother tried to make sure I had everything. “Now, are you sure you have your ticket and passport? Make sure you don't lose those.”
“I won't. Don't worry, I've got everything.”
“Well, just check one last time…show me your ticket and passport.”
I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out my passport and showed it to her. “See, here it is.”
“Okay, but what about your ticket?”
“Don't worry. Look, its right here.” I reached into the same pocket, but found it empty. I checked my pants pockets, shirt pockets, everywhere, but no ticket. “Oh, man! I know I have it somewhere.” I set down my luggage and knelt down to rummage through my backpack.
My mother came and knelt beside me. “Are you sure it's in here? When did you last have it?”
“I'm not sure, but I know it's here. It has to be.”
My father rolled his eyes, and checked his watch. “C'mon Masataro,” he sighed.
Suddenly, I realized where it was. “Oh, wait a second!” I unzipped the front pocket of my suitcase and pulled out my nonstop, economy-class ticket to Atlanta , continuing on to Birmingham . “I got it, mom.”
Still kneeling by the backpack, she let out a sigh and repacked everything.
“See, no problem. Everything's gonna be fine,” I said to my father.
He looked nervous. “You have to pull yourself together, Masataro. You're going to America . If you can't keep track of your stuff and get organized you're going to have a lot of trouble. You have to look out for yourself better. Do you have your insurance card?”
“Yeah, somewhere.” I began my pat-down again, unable to remember exactly where it was.
“Try looking in your wallet,” suggested my mother.
I found it inside. “Oh, yeah. I knew I had it somewhere.”
“See what I mean?” my father started again. “It's not like you're moving to Osaka or somewhere where you can expect us to come to the rescue. You're going to America , another country, with its own rules and laws and customs. Your mother and I can't take care of you. You have to watch out for yourself…did you hear what I said?”
“Yes, I know dad. Don't worry. I'll be OK. I have all my stuff, I'll be alright.”
My mother checked the departure time on the screen. “Well, you still have an hour and forty-five minutes until your plane leaves. Why don't we go sit down somewhere and have something to eat.”
I didn't want to prolong the goodbye any longer than necessary. “No thanks, I'm not really hungry. Look, I'll be OK. I'm going to start heading over to the gate now. You should get going back home so you can beat the traffic.”
My mother's eyes began to tear. “Well, you take care of yourself, OK?”
“I will.”
“Remember, you have to look out for yourself, be responsible,” my father added.
“I know, I know. I'll be fine. I can handle it.”
My mother gave my suit one last brush and straightened my tie. “Make sure you do exactly what the Shihan says. Don't complain or cause any problems.”
“I know. I won't.”
“And if you need anything, you can call us anytime.” She paused, and then added, “You can even call us collect.”
I smiled and touched her shoulder, “Thanks, mom. Well, I'm off now.”
“Keep a close eye on your bags. Don't trust the people in the airport with your stuff,” my father called behind me as I started for the security checkpoint.
I turned back, “I'll be fine—I'm a samurai now, remember?”
My father laughed. “Some samurai! You can't even keep track of your own ticket!”
My mother dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. I smiled and waved to them one last time.
***
I got to gate C97 and checked my ticket to make sure I was in the right spot. There was still plenty of time. Somehow, I didn't feel like I was really on my way to the U.S. Most people came to Japan to study karate; they didn't leave Japan to study in America . But, that's how things were for me. I checked one more time that I still had my passport and insurance card.
Next to the gate was a kiosk selling soba noodles, and another selling magazines and last-minute gifts. I wasn't very hungry, but I figured maybe I should eat something. Soba wouldn't be too heavy on my stomach.
I went to the cashier and set my suitcase off to the side under the counter. I ordered a bowl of noodles and a beer and ate it next to the service window. When I finished, I started looking at the magazines. I got a couple men's magazines filled with pretty girls and easy-to-read articles.
I paid, put the magazines in my backpack, and sat down in the waiting area. An old woman came up to me. “Excuse me,” she said.
“Yes?”
“I think you left your suitcase over there.”
I looked at my stuff and realized she was right. “Oh, man! Thank you for reminding me.” I got up to get it.
“That's alright,” she answered. “You be careful.”
“Yes, thank you.”
***
My seat was 48B, in the middle of three rows. When I got to my row, I saw a Japanese businessman already settled in the window seat. The aisle seat was still open. The businessman looked like my father in his well-made dark suit, with his hair parted neatly to one side. He was already curled up against the window. I put my suitcase in the overhead compartment, pushed my backpack under the seat in front of me, and sat down.
I watched the other passengers filling up the plane. The aisle seat beside me and the two nearest seats across the aisle remained empty. I noticed that the passengers were mostly Westerners. I felt a hint of loneliness. I took the men's magazine from my bag and began flipping through it.
Suddenly, three very attractive college girls came giggling up the aisle. The seats around me were still empty. I hoped for the best. But, just as quickly as they appeared, they were gone. It was then that I first heard the big black lady. I had never seen anything like her. She was almost as tall as me, but twice as round. She wore a dark blue flower-print dress that was divided into two halves by a thin belt. Her breasts were huge, but not at all sexy. Beads of sweat dotted her face, and her breath was short from trying to maneuver herself down the aisle. In her right hand, she clutched a purse and a small suitcase. Under her left arm, she held a two-liter bottle of coke to her chest. She flung the shopping bag in her left hand into the heads of aisle passengers every time she stopped to check her seat number.
She crept closer to the empty seat next to me. I looked at the magazine and tried to remain calm. She got to the row in front of me, humming something.
“Please, no, please, please,” I pleaded inside my head. I looked at the magazine, then out the window, then back to the magazine, watching her anxiously out of the corner of my eye.
I sighed and relaxed after she passed me. But shortly after that, I heard a conversation from behind. I heard the lady's voice and a flight attendant explaining something. Suddenly, the voices were right behind me.
The flight attendant brought the lady back. She explained something to her and gestured to the seat next to me. The lady smiled and waved, saying something about her seat that I couldn't understand.
I nodded and put the magazine back.
She let out a laugh, put her stuff in the seat, and tried to stow her suitcase in the overhead bin. I couldn't escape her breasts pounding into my face each time she tried to shove the suitcase in.
She looked down at me and asked me to help her. I managed to get it in and sat back down, looking straight ahead.
“Lordy, lordy--” she started saying as she sat down. I had no idea what she was going on about, but she was very excited and gestured with her arms as she talked. Every so often, she'd stop and look over at me.
“Hm,” I would nod. Eventually, I closed my eyes and tried to look asleep so I wouldn't have to listen to her anymore. After all, I couldn't speak much English. I just wanted to relax.
From the shopping bag, I heard her pull out a bag of chips and start crunching on them next to my ear. Between bites, she offered me some.
I kept still, trying to avoid her attention.
I felt a sharp jab in my ribs. “I know ( something-something ) asleep! ( Something-some-some-something ) chips?” she asked with her mouth still full.
“No thanks,” I waved my hand.
“You like airplane food?” She continued crunching and smacking as she talked about something else. I just nodded and smiled, not really sure what she was saying. I'd always imagined American women as beautiful blonde models in bikinis and convertibles. The first American woman I met, sitting next to me eating chips, was nothing like that.
A flight attendant came up the aisle. The lady raised her hand, “Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“How long does this trip take?”
“About thirteen or fourteen hours.”
“That's a real long time!”
“Well just try to relax.” The lady said something, and the flight attendant laughed. After the attendant left, the lady smacked my leg and said, “You know what I'm sayin', boy?”
I smiled and nodded.
The captain made some announcement, followed by a woman's voice in Japanese. She gave the basic speech about stowing luggage overhead and keeping our seatbelts fastened.
I looked over and watched the woman fasten her seatbelt. After she got it secured, she wiggled around, bumping my head with her shoulder. “Whoops, sorry.”
The airplane turned onto the runway, revved its engines and took off into the air. As we got higher and higher, I looked out the window over the sleeping businessman's head. The wing of the plane sparkled under the brilliant sun. An uneasy feeling came over me as I watched Tokyo slip further and further from view. There was no turning back now.
***
At some point, I fell asleep. I dreamt that Yuriko and I lived in a small country house on a plateau surrounded by beautiful mountains in the 16 th century. The clear blue of the sky extended for miles, dotted with soft fluffy clouds. I came out of the house dressed like an Edo-period framer. My rake and scythe in hand, I made my way out to the field. A woman's voice called out, “Masataro!”
I turned to face Yuriko, wearing a kimono, her hair flowing freely in the summer breeze. Her eyes were full of warmth and love as she ran out to meet me, holding her robes in her hands. I dropped my tools and yelled, “Yuriko!”
We embraced at the front of the house. I effortlessly hoisted her into the air and spun her around like in the movies. “I knew you'd come back,” I said before I kissed her.
“Oh, I missed you so much Masataro!” She placed her hands on my shoulders and stared into my eyes, overcome with desire for me.
I let her down gently and slowly. “I missed you too, Yuriko.”
“SSShhh, just kiss me my sweet prince.”
As we were about to kiss, I woke up to an elbow in the ribs. I turned and faced the lady next to me. She pointed to the beverage cart in the aisle. Where was Yuriko? Why was this lady tormenting me? The shock back to reality was an extreme disappointment. A pang of emptiness stirred in my heart as my dream faded away.
The flight attendant addressed the businessman by the window first. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I would like beer please,” he answered in a convincing American accent.
“That will be $4.00.” The attendant reached into the cart and stretched across me to hand him the beer and take his money. “And for you sir?” she looked down at me.
“ Biru kudasai ,” I said with a smile.
“Huh, what?”
“Beer Pu—“
The attendant talked to me as if I was half-deaf, “BBEEER?”
“ Hai , Yes.” I smiled and held out my money. The large woman chuckled to herself.
“And for you ma'am?”
“Gimme a coke.” The attendant gave her the coke and continued on.
Next came a male attendant with a food cart. “Chicken or Beef?” he asked the businessman.
“I'll have beef please.” he answered.
As he handed over the tray, he asked me the same question. “Chicken or Beef?”
I tried my best to imitate the businessman's pronunciation, “ Il'ru habu beefu purease. ”
“CHICKEN??” the attendant asked.
I shook my head.
“BBEEFF??”
I nodded and the lady chuckled again.
“Chicken or Beef ma'am?”
“I'll take both!” She let out a big laugh. She ended up with chicken.
After eating dinner, the passengers inside the plane began settling down to try and sleep. The main lights of the cabin were turned off. I turned on my overhead light and flipped through one of the men's magazines. Airbrushed models stared back at me with tender eyes and glistening skin.
“Whoa, my Lord! What kinda magazine you lookin' at boy!?” The lady was perched over my shoulder. I could feel her hot and heavy breathing on my neck. The horrible mixture of her hot breath and the naked women turned my stomach.
I quickly flipped to find a page without any women. “Excuse me.”
The lady sat back, shaking her head, “Me oh my! Look here boy,” she pulled a pocket-size bible from her purse. “This here be what you need to be reading. Too bad I ain't got one in your language.”
I smiled and nodded, then turned out the light and tried to sleep. She also began to sleep, clutching the bible to her chest.
***
I woke up with my head resting against the big woman's. “Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be arriving at Atlanta International Airport in about an hour,” announced the captain. We both gave an awkward laugh as we sat back up. She went to the bathroom.
Before she sat down again, she asked me, “Do you need to get out?”
I took out my toothbrush and toothpaste and went to the bathroom to clean up. Once I got back, she tried talking to me again.
“So where you going?” she asked.
“ Alabama ,” I answered.
“ Alabama ? That's a funny place for you to go. Most people want to go to New York or Chicago or somewhere like that when they come to the states. Not too many people pick Alabama .”
I nodded, trying to understand what she was saying.
“You be careful, though. America 's not like Japan …” she continued telling me things that I can't remember now. What I do remember, though, is feeling like she was my mother, trying to give me advice before entering the outside world. Like I said, she wasn't the kind of American woman I'd always imagined, but as she talked, I felt her genuine warmth and good nature. I felt like she really did care about what happened to me, a stranger from Tokyo . Looking back, she was very kind.
I helped her again with her bags when we landed. “Such a sweet boy,” she said and patted my shoulder. “You make sure to take care of yourself, understand?”
“Thank you,” I said with a nod and turned to leave. I looked back over my shoulder. She was still putting things in her bag on the seat, but she looked up and gave me a big wave goodbye. She was nothing like the image I had of American women, but I was glad to have met her.
After enduring a seemingly endless line at the immigration checkpoint, I was finally waved forward by the customs official. “Next!”
“Hello,” I said, approaching the counter. I felt like I was back in high school taking an oral exam. I handed over my passport and ticket.
“Are you traveling by yourself?” The officer flipped through my passport.
“Hai, uh, yes.”
“Where are you traveling from?”
“I'm from Japan .” So far, so good. The next question, though, was more difficult.
“What is the nature of your trip to the U.S. ?”
I smiled and answered, “Just a moment.” From my backpack, I pulled out a letter from the Shihan typed in English. The letter had been sent to welcome me to Birmingham . “I go here,” I explained, handing over the letter.
“O.K.,” the officer read the paper. “So is this a business trip?”
“My father's friend. I stay his house.” The official furrowed his brow and looked again at the letter and ticket and passport.
“How long are you going to be staying? Are you planning on traveling anywhere else?”
I wasn't sure how to answer, so I repeated again, “My father's friend. I stay his house.”
“How long?”
“Yes.”
“This is your father's friend?”
“Yes. I stay his house.”
“I know, I know. You stay his house.” The officer shook his head and laughed. He looked me in the eye, “Make sure you stay there; don't go anywhere.” He stamped my passport and handed everything back. “Next!” I heard him call out as I walked on.
I proceeded through the customs gate and showed my ticket to an agent directing passengers to their connecting flights. He directed me to gate B32. After about half an hour, I was finally on my way to Birmingham .
The second plane was much smaller than the first one. I felt a sense of loneliness as I looked around and saw that I was the only Asian. Lots of Japanese people came over on the flight to Atlanta , but now I really felt like I was in America , a foreign country whose language I couldn't speak. I checked to make sure I still had my passport and insurance card.
I decided I wouldn't order another beer. The flight attendants on a small domestic flight probably wouldn't understand my accent. If they offered drinks, I'd get Coke or water, even though I really didn't want them, but they were easier to pronounce.
We pulled out of the gate on time, but had to wait on the runway a while for all the planes in front of us to take off. The red sky slowly darkened more and more as the sun disappeared over the horizon. I felt nervous and suddenly thought of Yuriko. I still wanted to see her, to tell her about the strangeness of being in America , about the woman on the plane and the customs officer. I wanted to share my stories with her.
When we finally took off, I could feel the air pressing down on the plane. We pushed through the building pressure and out into the evening sky. I watched the airport and surrounding city grow smaller and smaller.
As soon as we reached our cruising altitude, the captain announced, “Flight attendants please prepare for arrival.” The flight only lasted about twenty-five minutes. Suddenly, I could see the city lights of Birmingham sparkling underneath us. The lights were pretty, but I felt like something was waiting for me just beneath them. I felt my heart beat faster and grow tighter as we descended further. A sense of dread and anxiety crept over me when the wheels touched down.
“Good night, thank you!” the attendants and captain called after me as I got off. They had great big smiles, but I couldn't smile.
***
When I exited gate C6 in Birmingham , I saw a man holding a cardboard sign reading “Welcome Masataro” in Japanese to his chest. I soon learned that this was Sensei Mori. His black gym shorts and faded white t-shirt clung tightly to his stocky, muscular frame. Odd as it may seem, the first thing I noticed about him were his shins. Rather than being straight like normal shins, the calluses on Mori's shins made them appear like golf balls and small stones were imbedded under the skin. Along the ridge of the shin bones, the hair had fallen out, making his skin shine in the light. He stood with his feet spread and his head cocked back on his thick neck. He raised his hand when he saw me come out of the exit.
I rushed over and stood in front of him. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his shins up close. I bowed deeply, and greeted him with, “ Yoroshiku Onegaishimasu !”
Mori laughed. “ Yosha ! Ikuzo !”
We silently headed down the escalator to the baggage claim. Soon after we got to the carousel, my massive duffle bag came around towards us. I reached for the bag, but Mori beat me to it. In one quick motion, he effortlessly hoisted the bag over his shoulder. “ Ikuzo !” I followed him out to the exit.
As we entered the parking deck, Mori continued charging forward with the massive bag. I tried my best to keep up. “How was your flight?” he called over his shoulder.
“ Hai. ”
“Are you tired?”
“ Hai . No sir, I'm fine, thank you.” Actually, I was very tired. My mind was tense from the reality of America , the new sounds and sights and language that surrounded me. The nervousness made my body tense. I wasn't exactly sleepy, but I had no energy.
Mori stopped beside a red Dodge pickup truck. “ Yosha !” he yelled as he tossed the bag into the truck bed. A loud thud rocked the old truck's frame. He turned to me, “Get in!”
“ Hai , hai .” Beads of perspiration covered my hands and forehead. As I sat down in the truck, Mori turned to me. “Masataro!”
“ Hai !”
“You came here to start karate training, right?”
“ Hai !”
“Well, your training starts now. The world of karate has its own set of rules; it's a different way of life. You understand?”
“ Hai , hai .”
“You're going to have to change some things in your attitude and behavior if you want to learn karate.”
“ Hai , hai .”
“The first thing you need to learn is that we don't say ‘Hai'. We say ‘Osu'. Got it?”
“Hai, Osu!”
“You know what ‘Osu' means don't you?”
I had no idea what ‘Osu' meant. I nodded my head, trying to answer correctly, “Hai Osu Hai Osu!”
Mori shook his head and smiled, “OK then, let's go.” Before starting the car, he turned to me and said, “ Oi ! You have a driver's license?”
His tone made me feel like he'd known me for years. “Hai,” I answered.
“Not ‘Hai', ‘Osu!' got it?” He smacked my head playfully, like the big brother I'd never had, and added, “ Bakero !”
“Osu, I have an international driver's license,” I explained.
“Oh, OK. That's good.” He started the engine and we made our way out into Birmingham . Mori's body rippled with muscles. Seated next to him, I could feel his power and conditioning. But he also had a warm smile. Something about his smile relaxed me, made me feel like I could trust him to look after me. A sense of comfort helped erase some of the tension that had been steadily building in my body.
Just past the city, we entered the town of Homewood , which was already sleeping. All my life, I'd been surrounded by the endless bright lights of Tokyo . A strange silence covered Homewood . There were no street lights or flashing neon signs. Rows of trees surrounded us, lit only by the occasional streetlamp.
We turned into the driveway of a two-story brick house. Mori stopped the car and turned off the lights. “ Yosha ! Ikuzo !” He grabbed my bag and led the way up the front steps.
The front door of the house flung open with a resounding “OSU!” Three guys stood at attention, as we came in. I soon found out that they were Toyama , Sawayanagi, and Kudo, the other three uchi deshi. I could feel their eyes evaluating me. I bowed and greeted them with an “Osu.”
Walking toward the kitchen, Mori called out over his shoulder, “You guys help him with his bags! Put his stuff in his room!”
The area to the left of the front door had a coffee table and two faded purple armchairs positioned in front of the fire place. Beyond that was the kitchen area. I imagined that everything that furnished the house was in good quality at some point. But now, everything bore the color of aging and rough use. Facing the kitchen just on the other side of the stairs leading to the second floor was the living room. The furnishings reminded me of a college dormitory, except that everything was neat and straight. Everything in America seemed bigger and more expansive. The dormitory was only an average-sized house, but it was twice the size of what I was used to in Tokyo .
I followed Toyama and Sawayanagi down the hall to my right. We entered the first room, mine. On the other side was Toyama 's room. The other three slept upstairs. We put down my things and headed back to the kitchen.
“You hungry?” Sensei Mori asked me when we got to the kitchen.
“Uh, no sir.”
“What!” he pounded his fist on the counter and laughed.
“OSU!”
“C'mon let's eat.” Everyone filed into the kitchen chuckling and whispering to themselves. I was too nervous to eat, but I had no choice. In the kitchen, Sawayanagi and Toyama began making instant ramen. While Mori and Kudo sat at the table, I stood in the doorway with my hands clasped in front of me.
“You can sit down if you want to,” said Kudo, motioning to the chair across from him.
“Osu,” I sat down and waited for Sensei Mori to tell me what to do next. Sawayanagi and Toyama set out five bowls of noodles and chopsticks. Mori went and opened the refrigerator and called over his shoulder, “You want a beer, Masataro?”
“Uh, no sir.”
“What!?” Mori lowered his eyes as he passed out cans of beer.
“OSU!” I had refused out of politeness, but was glad to have the beer.
Mori walked over and handed me an icy cold beer. After he opened his own, he put his arm around me and proceeded with the introductions. “This is Masataro. Masataro, this is Sawayanagi, Toyama and Kudo.”
“Nice to meet you,” I stammered. Everyone burst out laughing. I smiled awkwardly, feeling like an idiot.
Mori broke in, “Well then, Masataro, KAMPAI!”
“KAMPAI!” chimed the others, and we raised our cans.
“Let's sit down,” Mori led me over to the table. “So how's Japan ?” he asked.
“Oh…fine.” The question caught me off guard.
“Any news?” asked Kudo.
“No, not really. Nothing much exciting.”
“You know, this part of America , Alabama , its nice and all,” Sawayanagi began, “it's got a lot of natural beauty and the people are friendly. But it's out in the country, so we don't really get any news or anything else from back home.”
“Oh…well, I have this.” I reached into the breast pocket of my blazer and pulled out the magazine I'd been looking at earlier on the plane. I handed it over to Mori, who opened it up for everyone else to see.
“Oh, yeah!” Everyone was excited and huddled over the magazine. “Now this is more like it!” Kudo exclaimed. I relaxed slightly. For the first time since coming to Birmingham , I felt like I'd done something right.
After a couple minutes, Mori got up and said, “Well, it's getting late now. We should probably get ready for bed.”
“Osu!” The other three uchi deshi sprung up and began clearing the table and washing up.
“You want a shower, Masataro?”
“Uh, no sir.”
“What!?”
“OSU!”
“You should take a shower. You've been traveling a long time, and it'll help you relax before bed. Get what you need and I'll show you where it is.”
“OSU!” I went to my room and cleared the bags off my bed. I took out my shaving kit, pajamas and a towel, and hurried back.
“Just make sure you turn the water all the way off when you're done. Sometimes it drips,” Mori explained before he left.
“OSU!” I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth. Mori was right; I felt more relaxed. I dried off and put on my pajamas. The pajamas had been a gift from my mother. They were long-sleeved with loose pants. I wandered if I'd made a mistake bringing them. The deep blue silk and white trim didn't seem to fit with my new surroundings. I gave the faucet one last check, gathered up my things and headed off to bed.
It was the middle of the afternoon back in Japan , so my body refused to sleep. Outside my window, the branches of a large oak tree framed the moon. I thought about Yuriko. I wondered how she was doing. I decided I'd write a letter to her in the morning. I only thought about my parents and friends briefly, but for some reason, my mind always came back to Yuriko.
Maybe I was nervous or jet-lagged, probably both. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't relax. Mori had mentioned earlier that I could help myself to something to eat or drink if I couldn't sleep. I debated whether or not to drink another beer. I decided in the end that it would help me relax.
In the hallway, I heard someone's powerful snoring thundering in the house. I was glad to have my own room. I opened the refrigerator and took a cold beer back to my room. I propped myself up to drink and stare out at the moon.
Continue in Novel "Uchi Deshi in America"