Snoozer
...written on 05.10.02, @ 3:11 a.m.
Thu April 18, 2002
#3 of 4 entries posted 5/10
The boiled potato-like taro root was squished in between my chopsticks heading for my mouth when an immense desire to sleep overcame me. John, Brian and I were at our favorite neighborhood watering hole, Bizen.
My brain flashed through the options of getting up and riding my bike home or to the office couch, both equidistant from my seat, but my body put down the chopsticks, got off the bar stool, grabbed my jacket vest and lurched for the low table on tatami in the corner where it threw itself, my head landing on the vest-turned-pillow as Obaa-san pulled books and bags out of the way and covered my legs with my green jacket. I sank into slumber like a rock, English and Japanese words dancing in my head, "Is Kim ok?" "She's been sick lately".
I woke up to the sound of my own snoring, and saw the others talking to each other with the intense concentration required of those speaking and trying to understand languages not their own.
"Wow", I said groggily, "where's the truck that hit me?" John and Brian laughed and taunted me about snoring in public places. I thought they should be congratulating me because my mouth had been firmly closed, so that meant that I finally was getting air through my nose which has been stuffed up for what seems like time immemorial.
Now somewhat rejuvenated I was able to climb on my bike and head home, biding Brian sayonara at the next traffic light, and clutching the edges of my coat around my face as the brisk 2 am wind tried to slice through my cheeks.
I pedaled down the street towards my apartment, wearily watching the red light district say goodnight, thinking of nothing but getting home the fastest way possible, downing the ginseng tea Obaa-san had given me and once again going to sleep.