Fast times at Ojisan High

This is my first entry into the Japan Blog Matsuri. Thought I’d give it a shot.

You are in the bathroom.

You’ve been in Japan for just over a week. Having studied the language before you got here, you’ve been able to at least navigate your way around this new environment … but to say that things have been “unfamiliar” would be an understatement.

Moments ago, you and your friend had entered the restaurant bathroom together. A few seconds later, Lady Forthright — a mutual acquaintance who had come with you to the bar — had swung the door open and peered in, laughing loudly.

“I wanna see!” she said, her voice full of mirth.

“Get the hell out of here!” you said, shooing her away, equipment still in hand. Lady Forthright, laughing, closed the door and retreated.

A moment later, the restroom door again opened. You are about to berate Lady Forthright for her continued shenanigans when you realize that the person opening the door is in fact a middle-aged Japanese fellow. He walks forward, takes the urinal that separates you from your friend, and begins to relieve himself. There is a slightly awkward pause.

It is then you realize that the fellow has his eyes fixated upon your junk.

There’s a moment where you think to yourself, This isn’t right. I’m not quite sure what to say, but I know this isn’t right!

It is a rather unpleasant moment.

It’s also at this moment that Mr. Peeper straightens himself up, looks both you and your friend in the eye. He seems a bit unsteady.

“I am!” he exclaims loudly, in English, “A rice…”

There is a long, bizarre pause as you wonder what exactly this fellow is trying to convey to you. Or why. Frankly, you’re a bit lost.

“Farmer?” your friend asks timidly.

“Yes!” Mr. Peeper exclaims, his face alight. “I am a rice farmer!”

He gives you both a slap on the back before leaving the bathroom looking quite pleased with himself. You and your friend exchange glances, shrug.


You exit the bathroom and re-enter your drinking hole of choice, which consists of several restaurants and drinking establishments gathered under a single roof.

A girl in a yellow-and-black bunny outfit runs up, offers you a few darts.

“Would you like to try?” she asks, gesturing toward a large dartboard. “Hitting the black bars gets you a gift. Anything else is free drinks.”

You and your friend exchange glances.

And with the strength of champions behind you, you play to lose.