Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Take a number

I am due to travel back to England next week and in order to get back into Japan without hindrance upon my return like all the other aliens I must have a re-entry permit in my passport. Acquiring this means traveling into the city and visiting one of those hives of bureaucracy with stained floors and ranks of forms and completion examples. The recent webby innovations meant that I was able to download and print out my form the day before, so with the completed paperwork in hand I headed straight for the number dispenser and grabbed one. Observing the general flow I then went and stood in line for advice at one of the manned stations along the border between us and the system.
On these occasions I aim to retain my sense of civil humanity despite the bland decor and overcooked lack of oxygenation. Outward appearances aside I hope I am exemplary in internal gentlemanliness. This seemed to be the attitude of the chaps behind the counter also, businesslike and polite despite an incredibly tedious job issuing paperwork to us lot. No doubt the well tended pension gleams like a prize marrow in the greenhouse of the mind.
Post advice, having handed over all my proofs of identity for perusal I joined the ranks of sea anemones awaiting results and settled in for a session of people watching. The level of the seats put me down among the bored preschoolers in attendance.
There was one little motif where a couple of young mothers possibly of Philippine origin were spending ages filling out a batch of forms standing at one of the utilitarian desks prepared for the purpose. Their youngest was bawling while the elder kid amused himself in a prone position examining the quality of stitching on the shoes of a fellow form filler. The youngest got picked up and the other went to hug his mothers leg. Then a complete stranger of a young kid came up behind him in a kind of comforting way as the shoe expert had begun to whine. The new chap divided his efforts, hugging the kid and patting his head to comfort and soothe while at the same time occasionally giving him a stiff little kick in the ankles. An odd metaphor for the postmodern world, something of the catholic persuasion perhaps. The mother put her hand down absentmindedly to comfort her little chap and did a swift double take when she found this little excrescence attached to her offspring. I suspect her subconscious "mother radar" had alerted her and she shooed the kid away despite the lack of evidential proof of his malfeasance. My number chitty turned out to be completely irrelevant as it was marked 64 and the machine was on 39 when I got the call to grace. Come to think of it the issuing machine was on 42, so I don't know how I ended up with 64. Perhaps some other little fellow had been amusing himself by neatly inserting discarded numbers from the day before. A very inventive way of confusing the clientèle.