to “break in.” It is therefore highly surprising, even shocking, when an apparently dirt-poor unfashionable Japanese guy somehow manages to get himself brought into the chamber of leisure and savoir faire on a high Friday night.
“I'm sorry, but he claims to know you personally and was able to tell me your phone number—just says he just got out of jail and doesn't even have the cash to call.”
My eyes widen as I recognize Shan. In the perversity of the moment and the supreme boredom of the early evening, I throw caution to the wind and smile wickedly. “Okay, let's see what he wants.”
In the dark blue mood-lighted room, I receive Shan on two black leather cushioned sofa-seats as around me, my lieutenants peek out of the corner of their eye in genuine shock and curiosity. Elegant women in black cocktail dresses look bored and sip pink cocktails; the ambient music is of old-school trance/house; and I find myself in a deliciously perverse mood.
“So, Shan Le, what can I do for you?”
“Ritchie, uh, Ritchie, please you have to help me.”
“Calm down, calm down. What is the problem?”
“Dominique. She is crazy girl. She keeps telling police that I pull a knife on her. They put me in jail. I had to stand in one place for two days. People get tortured. No talking. It's terrible situation. Terrible.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Really Shan? I find that hard to believe. I really don't think a modern developed country like Japan tortures its prisoners. Maybe you just got in a fight.”
“No, Ritchie, please. I'm begging you. It's terrible in Japanese jail. They have different jail for Chinese person. No visa; no paperwork; I had to do factory work sixteen hours day. Hell on earth.”
“Well Shan, that sounds like a character building experience. But I don't see what it has to do with anything I can do.”
“I just got out of jail. Waseda won't let me into dorm; I don't have my clothes, my things, no money. I just need place to stay. And maybe paperwork for lawyer. Help me please. I do anything.”
With the full certainty that anything I can do for Shan is a slap in the face for the dog Dominique, I signal to a friend to come over, and his arrangements—starting with just being able to crash on the tatami floor of somebody we know in Minowa, are made.
It starts with a half-starved, beaten, possibly hallucinating impoverished Chinese ex-Waseda student showing up in my majestic surroundings and proceeds from there over the course of about nine more months in that remarkable city that once defined an empire. The time is around the turn of the century; the city is a city of twelve million; and the fashions that adorn the girls walking around will show up in New York the following year.
“Okay, Shan, let's start from the beginning. How exactly did you get in this mess?”
The Chinese boy takes a deep breath. He has washed up and rested for two days, and he looks a little less pitiful. But his weight is still down and he has developed a nervous tic in his left cheek.
“So...I am sitting there peacefully in my dormitory room studying when suddenly four Japanese police officers, wearing full riot gear outfit and carrying big black sticks march in. I jump up; I am terror-fied. They say that I have pulled knife on Dominique; that Dominique is victim of crime. But this is lie!”
I exchange glances with Tucker, loyal lieutenant, who looks carefully back.
“So these people arrest you and charge you with assault and battery for no reason at all? They do it just because they don't like you?”
“Yeah, Dominique is crazy girl! She just like cause trouble!”
“Have you ever hung out with her? Maybe you just were carrying a knife once and she saw it and panicked?”
“No. I just know her through when she at same party. I never even be in same room with her
“I'm sorry, but he claims to know you personally and was able to tell me your phone number—just says he just got out of jail and doesn't even have the cash to call.”
My eyes widen as I recognize Shan. In the perversity of the moment and the supreme boredom of the early evening, I throw caution to the wind and smile wickedly. “Okay, let's see what he wants.”
In the dark blue mood-lighted room, I receive Shan on two black leather cushioned sofa-seats as around me, my lieutenants peek out of the corner of their eye in genuine shock and curiosity. Elegant women in black cocktail dresses look bored and sip pink cocktails; the ambient music is of old-school trance/house; and I find myself in a deliciously perverse mood.
“So, Shan Le, what can I do for you?”
“Ritchie, uh, Ritchie, please you have to help me.”
“Calm down, calm down. What is the problem?”
“Dominique. She is crazy girl. She keeps telling police that I pull a knife on her. They put me in jail. I had to stand in one place for two days. People get tortured. No talking. It's terrible situation. Terrible.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Really Shan? I find that hard to believe. I really don't think a modern developed country like Japan tortures its prisoners. Maybe you just got in a fight.”
“No, Ritchie, please. I'm begging you. It's terrible in Japanese jail. They have different jail for Chinese person. No visa; no paperwork; I had to do factory work sixteen hours day. Hell on earth.”
“Well Shan, that sounds like a character building experience. But I don't see what it has to do with anything I can do.”
“I just got out of jail. Waseda won't let me into dorm; I don't have my clothes, my things, no money. I just need place to stay. And maybe paperwork for lawyer. Help me please. I do anything.”
With the full certainty that anything I can do for Shan is a slap in the face for the dog Dominique, I signal to a friend to come over, and his arrangements—starting with just being able to crash on the tatami floor of somebody we know in Minowa, are made.
It starts with a half-starved, beaten, possibly hallucinating impoverished Chinese ex-Waseda student showing up in my majestic surroundings and proceeds from there over the course of about nine more months in that remarkable city that once defined an empire. The time is around the turn of the century; the city is a city of twelve million; and the fashions that adorn the girls walking around will show up in New York the following year.
“Okay, Shan, let's start from the beginning. How exactly did you get in this mess?”
The Chinese boy takes a deep breath. He has washed up and rested for two days, and he looks a little less pitiful. But his weight is still down and he has developed a nervous tic in his left cheek.
“So...I am sitting there peacefully in my dormitory room studying when suddenly four Japanese police officers, wearing full riot gear outfit and carrying big black sticks march in. I jump up; I am terror-fied. They say that I have pulled knife on Dominique; that Dominique is victim of crime. But this is lie!”
I exchange glances with Tucker, loyal lieutenant, who looks carefully back.
“So these people arrest you and charge you with assault and battery for no reason at all? They do it just because they don't like you?”
“Yeah, Dominique is crazy girl! She just like cause trouble!”
“Have you ever hung out with her? Maybe you just were carrying a knife once and she saw it and panicked?”
“No. I just know her through when she at same party. I never even be in same room with her
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