A New Yorker in Japan

I wanted to write more about my trip to Japan, but every time I try I burst into tears. It was just too perfect. The people, the cities, the countryside.... When I returned to the crapfest known as Brooklyn I knew I'd made a horrible mistake. The Japanese realize that life in a big city is difficult, so they've developed strict rules of etiquette that make it easier to bear. They don't talk on cellphones in public, because they know it's annoying. They don't eat in public, since it's messy and causes litter. They wait their turn to get onto a subway car. In New York, on the other hand, people seem to be proud that life is hard. We throw ourselves onto subway cars the second the doors crack open, then race to any available seat. We break out the KFC, blithely tossing the bones on the floor, and afterward we trim our fingernails, floss, fart. Complaining is a sign of weakness. You can't take it? Grow a freakin' pair! If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, we proudly proclaim. Instead of trying to make it, like, nice. Within three minutes of setting foot in Tokyo I learned how different it was. A businessman approached me, just out of the blue, and proclaimed in broken English: BUSINESSMAN: Hello! Are you American? Would you like to take a bath with me? Red Sox! Naturally I was horrified. I was seconds away from smacking the guy, then calling Jacoby & Meyers. A bath? With a stranger? He noticed my horrified look and laughed. It was a perfectly ordinary request, he explained. Japanese baths are communal meeting places, like Starbucks, except with cheaper drinks and cleaner seats. He'd lived in America for fourteen years, and just wanted to reminisce with me. Compare that to the first thing somebody said to me when I moved to New York: STRANGER: Hey, it's your own fuckin' fault. Didn't your mama ever tell you not to get between a spitter and the street? Rudeness in New York is practically institutionalized. Here's the greeting you'll get when you walk into a New York store: CLERK 1: Get out. We closed. We busy. We don't wanna serve your ass. CLERK 2: Come back when you're wearing better clothes. Here's what they say when you walk into a store in Japan: CLERK (bowing): Welcome to our store. See the difference? It's subtle but it's there. The more you get to know them, the more you admire the Japanese. Forget your coat at a restaurant and when you return hours later it'll still be there -- if somebody hasn't already delivered it to your home. The NYPD just completed a sting where they left wallets on subway seats, then arrested everybody who picked them up. Some of the people insisted they were going to try to find the rightful owners, but the police carted them off anyway. Because nobody in their right mind believes New Yorkers, right? The Japanese work ethic looks positively otherworldly to American eyes. I get to a bank before opening -- and they unlock the door for me. While the bullet train is in the station, the cleaning crew literally runs from one end to the other, dustrags in hand. "Little time," one tells me, out of breath. "Much to do." As opposed to the Manhattan post office, where the clerk watches the line grow long as she moves tai-chi slow and chatters idly with another clerk. She glares daggers when anybody complains. "What do you think we are," she snaps, "robots?" Still, I try to brush back my sadness and concentrate on what I've learned. Even if I can't change society, I can make positive changes in myself, and this experience can point the way. Because who knew about the transformative power of a bright outlook? Who suspected that friendliness could be a stronger force than anger? Who'd have guessed that an open smile, a cheerful demeanor, and a warm handshake could get even the toughest New Yorker naked? Hello. Are you American? Would you like to take a bath with me? Red Sox!