Insert some coins, hit a button, retrieve your purchase. Even the doors open automatically. Life is moving by too fast to take in, just look forward in the suffocating silence that chokes the whole country of Japan. No human interaction necessary; like the vending machines that line the alleys.
Ride your bike down the sidewalk but don't even think of jaywalking; no one else does. A bomb exploded right over where I'm standing. Outlets and expression are different here. Too bad my adapter back to American is broken and so much about me has changed. Art week means all the exhibits are free. Sexual frustration is palpable. It's ok to openly ogle porn bought in the convenience stores that define the corners like drug stores in Cambodia, but not to overtly observe the street-walker-barbies in their short skirts, high heels and frilly socks.
"So, you've been in Asia for almost 9 months. I'm sure this is the question everyone wants to ask, but, do you have the Yellow Fever?" "I should hope not, I've been vaccinated against it." "That's not what I meant." "Oh. I think I may be vaccinated against that too, at least I don't think I've contracted it any of the times I've been bitten."
If there's no trash cans does that mean there's no trash? Rubbish. Slide into your capsule and forget about it. You have to wake up early to storm the castle. Did you know Japan had castles? Don't worry, there's no doors on the gates heres. Crisp bills, wheelchair accessible, pedestrian inconvenient and complicated for tourists. Their best gardens can't compete with my free one back home.
So here I am, standing in front of the electronics store waiting for the door to automatically open.
Oh, I have to push it?