It may have been just bad planning. It probably was bad planning. Because isn’t that what all lateness is all about?
Taiche and I were heading to eat fugu (!) and somehow he didn’t set expectations about when exactly we were needing to leave. So without really sensing the time, I got ready but may have taken too long? But he didn’t say anything. Earlier, he had scolded me for not placing confidence in him, but what frustrates me is how there’s no clarity about where we’re going so then without any clarity, I ask if we’re going in the right direction. Are we? Are there yet? It’s almost time, I say.
At the door, I noticed that he’s putting on sneakers. I thought that we have already talked about this. “You can’t wear that!” I exclaimed and he angrily then put on the black hiking boots.
Well, better, I guess.
At the elevator, I felt a sense of dread and discomfort. The usual feelings rose in my throat. Anxiety always prevails. The elevator doesn’t come. I look over at the google maps directions on his phone and notice that we’re going to be late. “Did you remember the reservation papers?” I asked.
In a fury, he ran back to the room. I examined the hotel elevator buttons and realized that there’s a special set for the handicapped elevator—no wonder it’s by itself and takes forever. This time, I press the other elevator that calls the other three. “I tripped over things, because I couldn’t see,” Taiche says, upon returning.
I know that he didn’t put the keycard in to turn on the lights. I sigh, knowing that things can escalate. Soon within seconds, the elevator comes and we get on.
But there’s no preparation when we get to the bottom flow at the street level. Taiche just starts sprinting. I rush to follow and catch up at the lights. We hold hands as we navigate through Shinjuku with mazes of crowds and corridors. Somehow we made it into the station. A side station. But the train has left, because I don’t walk down stairs fast. He’s annoyed about it. He mashes the buttons on his phone and appears to come up with another route. I say, noticing that it will take 30 minutes by train, but 14 minutes by car, “Do we need to take a taxi?”
“No!” he says.
I hesitate and want to point out that it’s clearly faster by car—why are we taking the train? “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” he exclaims and acquieses for a moment. “We’ll take it when arrive at the station.”
I see that the restaurant is about 1 kilometer from the station. The next train arrives and we ride it for a few stops before transferring. We get on and the time ticks.
When we arrive, we rush up to the turnstiles. Taiche sprints ahead again and he pauses at the corridors to wait for me, and continues sprinting once he sees that I see him. At the turnstiles, I hesitate, because my pass is in my bag so I look down and find it. But when I look up, going through the turnstiles, he’s missing. I know that this isn’t good. Did he go left or right? Based on intuition, I decide to go left. But suddenly, it’s splits into two again. Left or right? Which stairs? I take the right one, looking for the blue jacket. He’s not there. Not at the next level. Not the street level. My body tenses and I can feel my eyes well up in tears.
What would he do? I go back downstairs, expecting him to realize that I was gone and meet at the same place where we were. But time is ticking. It’s probably time now. I make an instant decision and head back up stairs to the street level, taking the same stairs. I have the money. he has the pocket wifi. I wave down a taxi and they tell me to go the front of the line. I get in and pull out the reservation paper and point to it. I know it’s a straight line. I look down at my phone and it’s completely offline. I try to connect to any free wifi network, but there’s none that works. A local bus. A tokyo one? Unsure which one is safe, so I remain offline as nothing works. I watch the meter and interestingly, it doesn’t tick up that fast. I am relieved because I don’t have that much money.
I arrive and want to ask where it is, but as I fumble for change. I see that Taiche has arrived too outside and he slams on the window door. I see that the taxi driver is startled. “He’s okay,” I say, wanting assure him that I know him. That it’s not a random person.
I get the change and open the door. “Taiche!” I say, squeezing him.
But he’s not okay. He’s breathing fast. Perhaps running? He took a taxi but it went the wrong way. So he ran. We struggle to the first restaurant saying the name of where we intend to go? The man says yes, but gets an English-speaking woman. No, it’s downstairs. We go downstairs. “Taiche ok?” I say.
He’s still breathing hard. The raggedy type of hard. I don’t know how long it will take to recover. We arrive and his face is frowned. But gratefully. we are shown to our seats. We express our apologies, but they don’t seem that bothered by our late arrival. “Anything to drink?” the English-speaking server says.
“Water,” Taiche says.
“With ice?”
“Yes.”
Taiche is still frowning and breathing hard. Something to do with feeling like vomit. He rushes to the bathroom. But when he returns, he’s not better. Our dishes arrive. But he’s almost choking. Maybe i am getting irritated. But what now then? The dinner continues as expected, but I can feel that things are tainted. The internet isn’t working. I think that I lost it, taiche says, while running. Did you lose it? I say.
But he finds it in his pocket.
And thankfully, the Japanese don’t hold grudges and we say thank you and express gratitude and wonder. That’s what it’s all about right?