My wife and I were greeted at the terminal, by her ex-husband. His name is Joel. He is from Canada. They had a Jewelry business. They sold jewelry on the streets in front of Tokyu Hands. They made lots of money. I was surprised! Joel became a legend in Isreal. Many Isrealis, who, are in Japan selling jewelry owe Joel a big thanks. We grab our things. He came in a super mini van. In the back was their business.

We got to the apartment about 45 minutes later. Joel drives like he is the only one on the streets. I do not blame him. No one respects the lines on the road. That is another story. He opened the door. We walked into a pigpin. That place was a mess. I could not believe it. How could anyone life like that. Jewelry, clothes and whatever else was everywhere. I just started cleaning up. Two hours later, the house was clean. We went out eat. That was the first tme I had been in a real Japanese restuarant in Japan. Everyone was looking at Joel and me. He did not like it. Coming from America and being Black, I was use to people watching my every move.

We ate salads, chicken and other Japanese dishes. It was good. I was suprised how the items came. Each item came on its own dish. Each dish had its own price. It got expensive. I did not pay for anything. I only had ten dollars in my pocket anyway. Is not that just like a typical American – “Broke”. We went home. I went to sleep. They stayed up and talked. The next day, we went to work. They set up their little market on the streets. I was very nervous about the police coming or the store owners calling the police. It took me too long to understand that no one cared.

Eventually, people came. They sold about $400 dollars worth of merchandise by 5 pm. I was told that they use to make thre to four times that amount. We packed up. Then they took me to pachinko. It was a gambling place.

There were many types of machines doing the same thing. Basically, you turn a knob clockwise, not all the way, but just enough to get the small pinballs to bounce through a myraid of pins positioned, to mostly guide the pinballs through the machine. There was a slot at the top slightly to the left of the centerline. If a pinball entered, The screen in the middle of the maching would spin. The object was to get three sevens, ones, threes or fives. If the numbers hit, then you had turn the knob to all the way to the right. The machine would then shoot the pinballs out with greater force. You had about 5 to 10 seconds to get one of the balls in another hole that was located just below the number digital display. It entered you got a chance to play a 15-round entertainment set. Once the pinpal enters the center hole, you get 15 bonus rounds to win more pinballs. During the 15-round period, if one of the balls do not fall into a certain hole during the 15 round period, you would loss your chance to go the whole distance. 15 rounds adds up to about $35 dollars. If you are lucky, you can live of off pachinco. I used the money I won from pachinko to pay child support. At that time, I would send at least 500 dollars each month, unless Mia asked for more. It was funny. As soon as I had enough boxes full of pinballs that amounted to 500 dollars, I took a break and change in the boxes for that amount, went to the post office got a money order and sent it to her.

I hated pachinko, but I always won. I am not saying that I did not have bad days. Oh, you should have been there when I lost 800 in a day. Joel was laughing. I was not happy, but I fugured out the system. The next day I won the money back plus an extra 100 dollars. Another day, I lost 1000 dollars. I won that money back that next day plus and extra 1,1oo dollars! I was lucky or smart to play that same machine, again.

After a few days passed and I kind of thought I new the route to our “market on the streets”. I got on my bike. I bought it in Honolulu, Hawaii. It wad a hand-made mountain bike. I started off in our neighborhood where the streets were narrow compared to the ones in Los Angeles. The roads, eventually, widen. I found myself in familiar territory. I decided to ride in the streets. Well, it was fun, at first. Then there it was – traffic!

I continued to rude in the streets. I noticed how close the cars were when the passed me – too close! Then I noticed that the road turned red. I wondered why. I, soon, got the answer. It was a bus lane. Three busses passed within inches of my right shoulder. I got scared. I continued my persistance and right to ride in the street. In Japan, you are suppose to ride in the side walk.

Believe it or not, I never ever thought about coming to Japan. I was so into my thing. Japan never, really, crossed my mind. I did have some Japanese friends at University high school in West Los Angeles. Other than that Japan was just another story in a book or on television. I got divorce from my first wife. She got mixed up with these women at her job. They filled her head with some jealous lies. Well, they could have been true about their men, but no about me. My wife had a good life, even though she was doing her thing. Everyone that said she was cute. That is another story. It got to the point where we had to say good-bye. We have two beautiful children. One is an honor student. The other is a mom, but she was an honor student, too. She let her looks and popularity take priority over her education. I love her. I went to Hawaii. This was a reason.

On my way home, I became an victim of an attempted car jacking or they were going to shoot me. I got away. I called my mom. “Hey, blah, blah, blah, happened today. Should I buy a gun?” “No! You never had one before. Why get one now!?” She said. “Come to Hawaii.”

I was on my way the next week. I still called and visited my children. The mom? Well, we are still good friends! Can you believe that? We had no reason to divorce. I paid, up to date, about $132,000 in child support, to date. That is about twice what I was court-ordered to pay. I got off the plane in Hawaii. It was hot! I waited outside for my youngest brother to pick me up. It took him two hours. He could have given me the directions to the house. I could have taken a bus.

I hated Hawaiil. I loved the people, but not the attitudes. Hawaii is a racist place. I obstained from sex for nine months. From the moment I got off the plane, I knew that I had made a mistake or did I? My only goal was to get back to Los Angeles and finish college. It was my brothers fault. They told me about Waikiki. I never knew anything about it. Well, I did see it on television, but it was no place that I wanted to go to, so I thought. “Japanese girls!? That is why you should go there.” They said. That was the first time I ever took their advice. I went there.

One day I was standing at a signal in Waikiki. I met a Japanese girl. We talked. For some reason, we went to the mall in Honolulu. I forgot the name of it. She stopped in front of a brand name store. She turned with her back towards me. She backed into me. Then, she took my hands and started caressing her breasts with my hands. Yes, I was in total shock! I was hooked. We were suppose to meet. I could not get off of work. How did the management know? I went to her hotel. No answer. The next day I went to the airport. I found her! Can you believe that? I apologized. We traded mailing addresses. We communicated about three times. That was it.

The whole experience left a good impression on me. I started learning Japanese!

I was sitting on a bench. There was an Asian family sitting next to me. “Excuse me. How do you pronounce this?” The father looked at me and said, “We are Korean.” We talked until the bus came. They got on it and went on their way. I learned about the Japanese-Korean relations history after I got here. Now, I can imaging what that man could have been thinking when I asked him to pronounced a Japanese word for me, “Dumb ass!”

As the bus passed by me, clearing up the view in front of me, there she was. My second wife, Suzuko. I started to run across the street like everyone does, but being Black in Hawaii that is not a good thing. I went to the corner like a good citizen or a person who did not want to get beaten in public by those racist no life cops for j-walking. I sat next to her. She was sitting outside of a coin laundry shop. It was on the same street that Chili’s is on in Waikiki. I sat next to her and asked, “How do you say this?” The problem in question was “tsu”. Guess what? It is the same sound as “ts” plus the long sound of “u”. She put her had on my shoulder and told the pronunciation. I can’t lie. It happened in reverse order. From that day on for the next seven plus years we were together.

After getting married, we got off that prison, Hawaii, two years later. I love the people there, but it is entirely too racist. Hawaii is beautiful. The plane ride was long and I got bored. We arrived, to the welcome of her ex-husband, at Nagoya International Airport. The date was September 5th, 1995. Thus, began “My Life In Japan”.