Well, friends. I feel that I am officially a Tokyo-ite. I met my first Chikan (groper) today! I was on the second leg of my 90-minute round trip to the gym, when I noticed a pale, skinny guy looking at me. He was walking my way, but the street was well-lit, it was early, and there were lots of people around, so I didn’t think much of it. A few blocks later, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me a question but I couldn’t understand him. Finally, he pulled out his cell phone and asked, “Do you have a phone?” I shook my head and that’s when he made his move. He leered at me and moved in close. Luckily, I had a well-placed elbow and a system full of raging endorphins. I shoved past him and started speed-walking down the street.
He didn’t follow me, so all was fine. But I was weirdly energized by the encounter. I immediately started re-writing it in my mind: He was tall, no really tall. And skinny. With a huge head. In fact, he looked like Jack Skellington from A Nightmare Before Christmas.
I built up the drama: I knew it the minute I saw him. He had yellow eyes! Luckily, I had my bottle of Suntory Mineral Water to use as a shiv.
I was walking fast and I felt strong and powerful. Then I started to wonder why I was feeling so elated after (almost) being groped by a stranger. I realized it was because it was comforting to know that, in this environment of overly considerate, kind, and caring people, there was a Japanese person out there who was impolite. Who was, in fact, an asshole. Since I’ve been here, everyone has been so nice, but I’ve felt like a bull in a china shop. I started to feel stupid. My chikan wasn’t a creepy character out of a Tim Burton film; just a pervy little dude looking to cop a feel.
Still a good story, though.
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