Hour 1 in Japan

Inspired by my hunched over back and the Ehrlich posture, my 5th grade teacher, David Wolf, made fun of me daily for the way I walked. On the last day of classes awards were handed out to the outstanding achievers of our grade. And then there were others given to keep us less studious kids from getting discouraged, losing our sense of self worth, and walking into school the next year with a gun.

Mr. Wolf called me up in front of the entire class and presented me with the award for `best impersonation of an old man` and then proceeded to explain to the student body that I was an old fart trapped inside a kid’s body. I wouldn`t have been so humiliated if it was just a light hearted joke, which is possibly how he meant it, but the fact that he was dead-on made it impossible for me to crack a smile.

Now, 13 or so years later, I am a really really old man. I got off the 15-hour flight from New York to Tokyo with severe back pain, shriveled up and dried eyes, aching legs, and reduced hearing ability. I had no interest in going to claim 30 to 40 pound baggage that was going to sit on my slumping back for the next three months, but I had no choice, it was filled to the brim with all the pills I take. So I placed the pharmacy on my back and humped it over to the train station. The 15 minutes it took Shula and I to locate the correct platform put my back into a new stage of agony, one that could not be soothed by Bengay, Tylenol, Advil, or even Percocet.

As soon as we were in the right place I removed my baggage and heeded the words of my Physical Therapist about the importance of stretching. I lay down on the ground looking up at the ceiling and went into an all out stretch while Shula headed for the bathroom. As soon as I began I noticed the station became a little livelier. I could not understand a word of what was being said, so I thought nothing of it, and continued lying on the station floor, on my back, struggling to bring my knees to my chest. I was too weary to raise my head to see what the commotion was all about. A few minutes later Shula returned from the restroom to find her boyfriend on the ground in some silly wanna-be yoga pose, wearing her father’s old worn out stained sweater, totally oblivious to the subway station full of Japanese commuters pointing and laughing. This was only the beginning, the first hour in Asia with thousands more to come.