As a follow-up to the previously-posted Legend of Hot Sensei, I provide you today with another sordid tale of my Japanese life. Actually, "The Dude" is more of a living legend than a mythical beast such as the Hot Sensei.
Almost every weekday, Pete and I go to the gym to work out and generally try to look manlier than we are. At the Konami Sports Club in Gyoda lurks our nemesis, the dreaded Dude. I asked his name once but it really doesn't matter. He is our bane.
At the gym while you're lifting heavy objects, you're not likely to want to talk to someone else unless he's your heavy-object-lifting-buddy or an attractive woman. Since the latter are all scared of us (not, I wager, in a good way), we must content ourselves with talking manly talk together. This is where The Dude comes in. You can see him coming from across the gym, and you know he's headed right for you. You can smell it on the air, see it in his beady eyes. He's coming for you, and there's nothing you can do. So you wait, and he gets to you with yet another one of his daily gems. The most recent stinker that really sticks out in my mind, while Pete was trying to shrug more than 50 pounds in each hand, was "Do you call that color violet or purple?"
This marks the usual caliber of conversation we are dealing with here.
For being an English teacher in Japan, I have a rather low tolerance for speaking bad English outside of the school area. I know people want to practice their English and so thus do I bear that in mind. But when it occurs every day by the same guy who keeps me from getting to a machine before someone steals it...well this is a grave weightroom offense in my book. We've tried avoiding it or even ignoring him, but it doesn't really work. The other foreigner who goes to the gym seems to have better luck with it than we do, but he still gets caught daily.
Every day we go to the gym and peer surreptitiously through those foggy windows, hoping not to catch sight of The Dude. If he's there, we know our workout time will increase by a good twenty minutes. If he's not, happy, happy day.
Do you know The Dude?
Comments
Dude, where's your sense of humor? (After that last comment, you know mine's in the gutter at the moment.)
Here's how I would have handled him:
"Do you call that color violet or purple?"
1. "No, we call it maize."
2. "Do I look like a chick? Guys don't know colors, man!"
3. "Well, some people might call it one or the other of those, but I think I would probably call it amethyst. Then again, some people might call it mauve in a certain light. One thing I would never call it is royal purple. Do you think it goes with my eyes?"
How to handle the random attacker elsewhere:
"Harro. Can I speak English with you?"
"Sure. I charge 5000 yen an hour or 100 yen per minute. The meter's running and you now owe me 100 yen, OK?"
It's a war out there. Time to get creative!
Posted by: IbaDaiRon | March 12, 2006 2:09 AM
Wow. Ruthless! I imagine effective if used in the field, however.
Posted by: Justin | March 12, 2006 2:53 PM