Olivia Mei Sasaki
The plane ride was tolerable thanks to the sleeping pills that knocked me out before take-off. It takes eleven hours to get from San Francisco to Tokyo and the crumpled list of things I could do to kill time is tucked in my back pocket. Stepping out into the cool air, I'm immediately struck by everything "Japan". The men in black suits busying themselves in their smartphones, colorful taxis lined up and waiting patiently for their passengers, even the air smells like Japan.
Instinctively, I pull up the Uber app on my phone before I realize I'm not in San Francisco. Sighing, I walk to the Skyliner station. An Uber from Narita Airport to Yotsuya would cost over two hundred bucks anyway.
As I wait for the train, I scroll through the photos of my one month in San Francisco that I spent before my semester had started. I roll my eyes at all the ridiculous selfies my best friend, Sophia, spammed my gallery with, not feeling the need to delete them. Photos of all the cute, victorian houses I missed so much paint my screen with vibrant colors.
Home.
If only I could have stayed in San Francisco.
I shake my head, pushing my thoughts away. I made it through one year of living in Tokyo. I can make it through another.
The train arrives as people stand to line up in front of the sliding doors. I roll my eyes at how meticulous they are, planting their feet directly over the footprint stickers that are laid out. People pour out of the train, and we wait for the last passenger to alight before stepping in.
The train is quiet, unlike the chaotic sounds of busses in San Francisco. The trip is about an hour long, so I pull out my list of things to do, looking over my options.
- Read plane catalogue
- Watch movie
- Put on face mask
- Eat a peanut for every time a kid cries
I tug on my lip, not knowing which activity I could take up for a long train ride. The face mask I was meant to put on during the flight is still in my bag, but I doubt the other passengers would appreciate me using it.
Well it's their lucky day.
I pull out the packet and rip it open, the mask dripping as I slide it out. People are already glancing my way. I'm used to it.
I lean my head against the wall behind me as I allow my skin to absorb the cool liquid. My poor skin clearly needs it after the eleven hour flight I put it through. The silence forces my mind to wander all sorts of places.
I think about all the things I would need to buy to settle into my dormitory. How much would they cost in total? Not that it matters, since my father would technically be paying.
I think about my first day in university. I start on Monday, which gives me the weekend to sort out what classes I have each day. It's not common for a freshman to be taking over five courses in their first semester at Waseda University, but I plan on making it to the Honours Bioscience Division, meaning I need the extra time in my final two years to prepare and write my dissertation. My textbooks are all ordered and on their way to my dormitory, and my notes from the online summer courses I took during my time in San Francisco add a good few pounds to my luggage.
A gush of wind swirls through my hair as I step out of the train. People scatter to their destinations while I fumble with my phone, pulling out the directions to my dormitory. It's an eight minute walk uphill and I groan.
YOU ARE READING
The Nail That Sticks Out
Romance"The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." That is what they say in Japan. Olivia Mei Sasaki is a perfect example of a nail that sticks out in the vast city of Tokyo. Growing up in San Francisco, her skills in Japanese are close to non-existant...