LA 2 Tokyo

Everybody’s got different reasons for coming here. My interest in Japan started at a young age. There were lots of Japanese kids at my Elementary school, so I learned the usual bad words…but I didn’t really take an interest in the culture until Junior High.

I went to public school, and in LA, like most other cities, which school you attend is based on where you live. My house was just on the other side of the border from the Junior High School all my friends would be going to. So I had the misfortune of being one of only two kids to go to the other school.

It was brutal showing up for my first day of Junior High alone. All the other kids seemed to know eachother from Elementary School, and nobody talked to me. On top of that, I was painfully shy at that age.

My Junior High was grades 6-8, and I was young for a 6th grader (only 10 years old). Some of those 8th graders were 14 years old and looked like giants! There were a lot jerks there, too. One 8th grader walked up and spat right in my face for no reason during my first week.

Kids would beat you down for no reason, and there were fights practically everyday afterschool. It was a real different world from Elementary school. Most of my teachers were fools, too…acting all hard the first week to try and scare us into submission. I was just thinking, ‘How the hell am I gonna survive in this hellhole?’ I was seriously considering trying to transfer to the other Junior High.

I did have one friend from the same street as me who happened to go to the other Elementary school, so he had connections at this crazy Junior High. But he was out of town the first week of school. I’ll never forget the day he got back, and I met up with him at lunch. It’s lucky I didn’t transfer, cause from then on, things started looking up.

No more lonely lunches

That fool really saved my life, and I’m still grateful to this day for that. He introduced me to all his buddies, most of whom happened to be Korean and Japanese…all 100% American. We quickly became good friends, and I used to stay over at their houses all the time. I remember my first taste of Kim Chee at my buddy’s house, and when his dad hooked up the Korean BBQ style for his B-Day party!

So basically I was this white-boy chilling with a bunch of Asian kids. But you know what? We were too young to give a crap about race and all that other BS. If somebody messed with one of us, they messed with us all. We looked out for eachother.

Our school was really mixed, and among the Asian kids, there was a definite split between the ones who grew up in the States, and the ones who couldn’t speak English. There were a few Korean kids in the latter group, but I remember most were Chinese, and Japanese.

One of my close friends came over from Japan when he was five, so he spoke perfect English, but he also went to Japanese school on the weekend, so his Japanese was great, too. He was in tight with the Japanese-Japanese kids at the school, and I remember one time at lunch he suggested we chill with them.

They were a big group of about 30 dudes, and I was a little nervous if they’d be cool with some white-boy who can’t even speak Japanese sitting with them. But my friend introduced me, and they were all cool. Mostly, we communicated with body language, but my friend translated, too. I even picked up a few non-swear words.

Some of the guys could speak a little English, and it was enough for us to make friends. After that, I was in, and I started hanging out with them at lunch regularly. They told me about life in Japan, showed me comics, and even their Japanese porno magazines. I was surprised at how much porn these guys had, and they said they could buy it in vending machines, along with beer!

Going to my friends’ houses afterschool was fun for me, cause I got to try new food all the time. I remember the first time I tried umeboshi onigiri, or when my friend’s dad had my family over for homemade sushi. I’ll never forget how my dad spread on the wasabi thinking it was avocado…I’ve never seen such a bright red face!

The more I learned about my friends’ home country, the more I wanted to go check it out. Everything sounded cooler than America. I guess it was the old “Grass is Greener” syndrome…you know how that goes

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