Self-driving cars, Japan, and Rude Boy

If you can't watch the video, it shows a young man in a stylish leather jacket driving a Lexus IS through a mountain pass. “How do I explain it?” he wonders. “It was...exhilarating. Nimble. Responding to my every touch. Moving faster than the wind. That feeling of pure...driving. It was amazing.” The steering wheel disappears beneath his hands and suddenly he's sitting in a spacious self-driving orb, decades older, entering the outskirts of a major city (Toronto?). And then words appear onscreen:

“Enjoy the thrill of driving. While you still can.”

Yeah. Pretty much.

*

Reading the news today, it's hard not to come to a depressing conclusion:

Self-driving cars will likely be commercially available within our lifetimes.

The Weeknd in his all-red Lamb...borghini Aventador SV

Ok, so depending on who you are, that might not be depressing. It could even be damned exciting. I appreciate that not everybody loves driving like I do, or even particularly enjoys it, or thinks about it at all unless they're currently doing it. They're not against the concept, they just don't care. They don't don't spend all their disposable income on vehicles they don't need. They don't analyze the specs of cars old and new, calculating dollars-per-horsepower or power-to-weight ratios. They don't discover the entire library of The Weeknd because they saw an ad for the Starboy video and clicked on it to see what the car was.

That's fine. Self-driving cars are made by and for these people.

Some people, given the choice, would rather relax and enjoy the ride. There are people who are technically skilled, but so nervous and lacking in confidence that in practice they are a danger behind the wheel. And then there are people who should never operate a motorized vehicle under any circumstances. I'm actually hesitantly in favour of developing self-driving cars, especially if they could communicate with each other, dramatically improving safety and even alleviating congestion.

The only reason I'm ultimately against self-driving cars is because I am deeply afraid that if they become normalized in the public consciousness, real cars will be legislated against, and that if that happens, I'll never drive again.

I mean, Jesus, we practically have self-driving cars already: They're called BMWs. And grocery-getters aren't much better. Automatic transmissions, lane departure warning systems, fucking backup cameras, the entirety of automotive history has described an arc of human beings having to know less and less what the hell they're doing, to the undeniable detriment of their driving abilities. The new Civic Type-R, in spite of being standard-only, will actually fucking blip the throttle for you on a downshift, so that you don't have to learn to heel-toe. Because the last thing you want to do while driving is drive, apparently.

Kylie Jenner in her burnt orange Lamborghini Aventador SV

But Elon Musk, Waymo, Nissan, and everybody else researching autonomous vehicle technology don't care what I think. And one of my firm beliefs is that you can't fight the future: It's coming, and your only choice is whether to smile and hop on board or watch it leave you behind. I'm talking social justice in the 60s, the advent of the Internet, you can see it everywhere. I choose to get on board. I would even work for a company developing self-driving cars, if that came up. I'd hate to know that I helped sound the death knell of real cars, but if it's happening anyway, I might as well be a part of it, profit from it, and help make history. So I guess it's time to at least get comfortable with the idea.

*

There are, however, some alternatives to full autonomy.

Vehicle autonomy is currently categorized into four levels. Level 1 is what we currently have everywhere, and Level 4 is the long-term goal of zero driver input, ever. Level 3 is basically where the car can drive itself in any situation, but the driver still has the option of driving themselves if they want to.

Level 2 is where it gets sticky, and it's where we're stuck at present. At Level 2, the car drives itself, but it requires constant supervision from a human being, who must be as alert as they would be if driving themselves, ready to take over at a second's notice should the car's AI find itself embroiled in one of the numerous situations it is not equipped to handle. Do you...do you see the problem with this?

Instead, is there a way to make Level 1 safer? What Japanese automakers, in contrast to their American and European counterparts, seem to have arrived at is a broad swathe of features that help a human driver operate their vehicle more easily. In other words, the computer becomes not a chauffeur but a copilot. You gotta like that kind of lateral thinking from a business, filling a need we never knew was there.

Toyota:

Toyota Prius Super Bowl commercial. Source.

Here is where we have to pause to acknowledge that the Prius is an absolutely terrible car. The only car I've driven, so far, that was worse than the Prius was the Smart Fortwo (fingers crossed I get to drive a Lada someday!). Well, ok, Prius is surprisingly peppy in Sport mode. But in addition to being auto-only, on account of it's electric, the throt...um, gas ped...the accelerator isn't attached to anything, and feels like it. When you depress it, you aren't pulling a cable that operates the engine, you're asking permission from the computer to torque the drive axle a few extra times each second. Really stupid. (Although the Fortwo still wins the worst because its torque converter shifts like someone learning to drive standard, and not making a lot of progress with it either. Although it was shockingly peppy and oddly fun to wheel around...)

But you also have to acknowledge that the Prius is kind of an amazing piece of engineering, developed at a time when Toyota was on top and certainly didn't need something new and surprising, but chose to develop something anyway in order to avoid becoming stagnant. It's therefore fitting that it was chosen as the test bed for innovative developments in driver-assist technology, in partnership withresearchers at MIT.

The research project uses what the article calls “parallel autonomy,” human drivers assisted by a computer's detailed analysis and superhuman reaction times. These Priuses use what is quickly becoming a fairly standard combination of GPS, cameras, and LIDAR (light-based radar – so, “eyes”) to facilitate emergency automatic braking and emergency automatic steering. The researchers assert that people become inattentive when riding in a Level 2 vehicle, so instead they sought to augment Level 1.

Nissan:

WIRED: “Nissan's path toself-driving cars? Humans in call centres.”

“If the [self-driving] car hits black ice, it's in charge of staying on the road. But [human operators] can help out when the car encounters conditions it's unsure how to handle. A human operator would look around and use the car's cameras and other sensors to issue new instructions. The teleoperator is there to make sure the car doesn't just shut down when it's too dumb to know what's going on.”

I guess this one's cheating, but it's still an interesting unexpected solution.

Honda:

Acura NSX. Source.

Honda will apparently be using lessons learned from the Acura NSX to enhance the driving experience of its Regular Joe cars.

For example, the 2018 Accord will “match speeds with the car ahead, nudge the wheel to keep you from straying out of your lane, and it'll even bring the car to a stop if it detects an impending collision. It can even recognize traffic signs and display them to the driver. A multiangle backup camera is also standard on all trims. Blind-spot monitoring, front and rear parking sensors, rear cross traffic alert and a driver awareness monitor are optional.”

This is hardly an exhaustive list of all the developments in self-driving technology, or even just the Japanese sphere of it – that'd be a topic for a whole blog on its own – but it's a representative sampling of what's coming out of the country in that area.

*

And I kind of hate all this shit.

Elon Musk with a Tesla Model 3.

Tesla has actually recently included an option to allow their cars to go up to five klicks over the speed limit while in self-driving mode, which is unbelievably fucking stupid, because how the fuck did you not understand what you were getting into? Either accept that your car is going to restrain itself to the legal limit, or learn to drive it long distances yourself. Fucking rich people, hey?

And this actually speaks to my wider point: So, so many motorists are overwhelmed by their own sense of entitlement. I mean really. It's why they drive like complete dipshits on the highway, or send Mission Critical texts while driving, or drive while drunk or high. Traffic safety is one of the only things I take seriously. Because I love driving, I respect it.

“Oh, haha, but I actually drive better high, man.” Fuck you. Fuck. You. “But I only text when it's really important.” It's never important. You know it, I know it. It's certainly not more important than what's happening around you. When you say shit like that, what you're really saying is, “I think I'm more important than everyone else.” Oh, you literally think you are? Fuck you. We already went over this.

*

What's wrong with driver assist?

Takumi (AE86) and Keisuke (FD) race through the twisties.

Let's start with lane departure warnings. This is unbelievably stupid. How can you not notice when you're drifting out of your lane? Just pay attention to what the fuck you're doing! I'm annoyed this is even a thing. Besides, I intentionally drift out of my lane in the twisties, because that's where the best line is. Of course I never do it faster than I can see, because that's fucking obvious. Well, maybe this system could help wake somebody up if their attention starts to drift on the highway. Maybe that's legitimate. Alright. Alright.

Backup cameras? Well, OK, but the problem here is that people think that having a backup camera means they're free to just stare at a display on the dashboard, letting the beeps tell them when they're done. Um, no. You have to look all around the vehicle to make sure that pedestrians, other vehicles, etc aren't staggering gormlessly into your path, as they do. And you need to actually angle your car into the stall you want. And avoid knocking into anything outside the camera's extremely narrow viewpoint as you do it. A backup camera can be a handy tool. But like any tool, it's only effective for its intended use.

How about dashboard lights that indicate when there's a vehicle in your blind spot? Again, fine, as long as you remember that they're just tools. You still have to shoulder check and be certain the space you're moving into is clear, this is just one more safeguard in case you make a mistake. But that's not how most people will use them, is it? They will now trust the car to do their job for them, because no computer has ever had a glitch and no lighbulb has ever burned out. And by the way, when you have a spare moment, learn to adjust your mirrors correctly. Then you might not even have a blind spot. If you can see any part of the vehicle, you're doing it wrong.

Cruise control is bad enough. This stupid thing where it will now accelerate to passing speed without you touching the accelerator is even dumber. But I've already complained about this in another post, so we'll move on.

And now the worst one: Automatic braking. What the actual fuck? Excuse me. I am driving the car. I will decide when we brake. Full stop. No pun intended. Sorry, no, I am just fundamentally against anything that takes control and specifically decision-making out of the hands of the driver.

Yyyyyyeah.

So what happens the first time the feature malfunctions while you're doing 120 on the highway with an F250 tailgating you? Right.

On top of that, have you ever had your car do something unexpected, perhaps while moving at speed? It's not a great feeling, is it? Do you think it would be improved if it occurred as, say, a drunk driver ploughed into the back of a bus up ahead? Rather than thank their guardian angel, I think the average driver would be so startled by the car taking action without their input that it would actually hamper their ability to perform any other manoeuvres that might be necessary to avoid becoming involved in the accident – manoeuvres which would already be harder to perform under braking, by the way.

Besides which, setting aside how much I've slagged off the average driver throughout this post, how bad do you think people's hazard identification skills are? Most people's kneejerk (heh) reaction when confronted by any kind of driving situation is to hit the brakes anyway, even and maybe especially when the best response would be to accelerate, so the extra half-second is just not worth it.

Samson Drifter from Mafia 3. Source.

“So, Rude Boy, I suppose you hate ABS too.” Actually no. ABS is acceptable because it genuinely improves safety, is fairly reliable, and – and this is critical – behaves consistently, generally activating under the same combination of conditions (speed, load, brake input, and so forth), thus becoming no more than another tool in the driver's toolbox, augmenting her abilities and contributing to the driving experience rather than detracting from it. Yeah, you can grow to depend on it, but the average person will never again drive a car without ABS (most people under, like, 30 never even have), and for a majority of people, in a majority of situations, ABS is superior to no ABS. (Yes, you can, and indeed must, learn to balance the brakes right on the edge of locking up in a vehicle without ABS, but does that shorten your stopping distance relative to if it DID have ABS? No.)

*

Now there are, last time I counted, roughly a hundred billion companies competing in this space. Tesla is doing it because Elon Musk is forward-thinking as hell, hence the electric cars (OH MY FUCKING GOD ELECTRIC CARS UGH.) Uber is going for it because, presumably, they imagine a future in which they offer a fleet of self-driving taxis rather than contracting service providers. Google, via Waymo, a subsidiary of Alphabet, is in on it too, because since the day it was founded Google's business strategy has been “try a bunch of random bullshit.” And then there are the various startups focussing on just this one particular issue, many of them formed of refugees from some of the companies I just mentioned.

The significant thing here is that each of these companies has slightly different reasons for pursuing this goal – meaning their vision of the future of autonomous driving may actually vary more widely than you'd assume – and that they bring vastly different strengths and capabilities.

Mercedes's self-driving concept. Source.

Because it's not just tech companies who are in the game – traditional, non-Tesla vehicle manufacturers are having a go at it as well. It would be like if instead of getting Bill Gates to make Windows, IBM not only attempted to make their own software solution, but were actually competing against his at the same time. Toyota even partially funded the MIT project mentioned earlier. It's a new frontier in business, and in some ways it doesn't even make a lot of sense, but here we are.

I wonder if this is the beginning of a bigger trend? If it's good enough for Prius and Spider-Man: Homecoming, what other intersecting markets could benefit from collaboration between semi-competing companies?

*

The Prius article shares some words from the team lead: “I think we share the vision with Toyota that driving can be fun and people want to continue to drive.” And an unrelated researchers says, “Everyone thinks it's going to be super exciting to be in a self-driving car but it's actually going to be super boring.”

I still hope I never have to give up driving. If the Japanese government grandfathers in currently insured vehicles, I will keep all my current cars on the road until I die, probably in a spectacular traffic accident caused by human error and safety standards that are decades out of date. If they give everybody a hard deadline, say ten years, then my motorcycle will become my new daily. (Unlike most motorcyclists, I actually prefer driving to riding, but, if it comes to that, ten times out of ten I will choose to ride a motorcycle over being chauffered inside a robot.) If they take away our motorcycles – and they haven't so far, incredibly, so it's possible they never will – then I guess I'll just be hitting the track every weekend. I'd still be having a huge part of my identity ripped away, but at least I'd be able to get that comforting sensation of controlling a vehicle every once in a while. And I'll also, uh, play games like Grand Theft Auto, I guess?

Enjoy the thrill of driving. While you still can.

Kanadajin Tales! Everyone Rude Boy knows is inappropriate

Cute upbeat smiley young blonde Mormon missionary: Do you have a belief in Jesus Christ?

Rude Boy: Uh, no, I haven't.

Missionary: (ridiculously perky) Why not?!

*

History teacher: And another theory is that neckties are supposed to point the way to your crotch. I purposely wore a necktie today, and you can see how it does, in fact, point to my crotch. Now in case I get in a car accident today, I don't want your last memory of me to be of me talking about my crotch, so I'm going to say a couple more things.

*

Rude Nephew: So I think my friend Jim knocked some girl up again.

*

History teacher: There are so many ridiculous kitchen gadgets in this day and age. You don't need an avocado peeler. I got news for you, you already have an avocado peeler, it's called a knife.

*

Stopping for gas late one night, I noticed a bunch of thuggish young men surrounded by the type of young women who hang out with thuggish young men, crowding around the door. Then I got closer and heard them speaking in Russian. My kneejerk reaction was to calm down immediately, because, oh, foreigners, ie harmless and friendly. Not sure what that says about me.

*

Female friend: I feel like I'm banging my head against a concrete wall. Except the front instead of the back, you know?

*

Chinese Politics teacher: I have a YouTube video here, let me just show you a little of what Macau is all about.

*loud Beyblade commercial plays*

*

Politics teacher: Of course, France has a long history of acculturation. No matter where you were born if you learn to speak French and learn French culture and can, you know, identify 24 different types of cheeses by smell, then you're French.

Hot French girl: (laughing in delight)

I thought it was pretty stunning in comparison to Japan, where if you're not born Japanese you will never be Japanese.

*

Rude Boy: Hey, if there's grass on the field, play ball.

President: What if there could be grass, but it's mowed?

*

President: Well, I guess I should start getting ready for my rope-bondage thing pretty quick. I'd say “wanna come,” but I don't think it's quite your thing.

Later:

President: Sorry about that, couldn't text for a while

Rude Boy: Oh yeah? Were you...a little tied up?

And the next day:

President: Oh, when you come over, I need to show you something I learned last night that's like, super quick and so damn handy. You can restrain a girls hands in like 10seconds

Rude Boy: Best text message ever

*

Remember how President and I have a running joke that every time we have a History class together, something terrible happens in Japan? The first time, we took a course together and the 2011 earthquake happened. Then last year, we took another one together and Kyouto flooded.

Then last semester I decided to sit in one of her History classes, just for fun, and that very fucking day Juuso Eki caught the fuck on fire.

*

Jugs: Last week Valentino said “Yeah, there was a whole episode of Dr. Oz about that.” It was the gayest thing he's ever said, and he talks about making out with dudes.

*

I gave both President and Jugs white chocolate for White Day. I wasn't dating either of them, but in my mind it's not just about that – in my interpretation, it can also be a day to just generally appreciate all the women who make your life that much better.

As if you need a reason.

*

30's white girl's shoulder tattoo: 性的

(Maybe she meant “sexy?”)

*

President: Great, so on Monday night we'll come back here, fuck, and then figure out something for dinner.

*

Jugs: “This cabinet requires two people to assemble.”

Jugs's sister: Challenge accepted.

*

Rude Coworker: (teaching Rude Boy how to do temperatures) So yeah, then you basically just go around sticking it in all of them.

Rude Boy: That's how I've lived my life so far.

Rude Coworker: (slowly raises fist for pound)

*

Rude Boy: Not sure I can stay. I don't have any clothes.

President: If you were a girl and we were lesbians, you could just borrow some of my clothes!

*

Driving through a rural area, I suddenly came upon what looked like an enormous black dog, walking down the road away from me. With no time to slow down but with plenty of room, I thought I'd just cruise past it, when for no goddamned reason it swerved towards me and I saw that it was actually a young black bear. I tried to get away but it impacted with a thunk.

I loosed an articulate “Grrrwuuughhhh!” and then, like a responsible, moral human being, continued driving. Well, if it was injured, what the fuck could I have done? More importantly, what if wasn't, but now it was pissed off because it had just been hit by a car?

By some miracle, it impacted right between the headlight and the wheel, so the car was fine, and I was fine, and I don't know whether the bear was fine, because they're pretty tough, but it also got hit in the face with a 1500-pound bullet travelling more than a hundred kilometres an hour. But I got the vehicle's first dent, with kind of a cool story to go with it, because everybody's hit a deer (I haven't, actually), but how many people can say they've hit a bear?

*

President's gay co-worker: (about Lock-Up) So who was that hottie you were with?

President: Oh, that was my really good friend from Japan.

President's gay co-worker: Really good friend?

President: I wish.

President's gay co-worker: Aww, why not!

*

Rude Right-Hand Man: (dating pulls) And these are good for two days...

Rude Boy: You're good for two days.

Rude Right-Hand Man: I expire after 24 hours, actually.

Rude Boy: Oh.

Rude Right-Hand Man: It's good though...it means I contain less sodium, so I'm better for you.

*

Lock-Up: (in English) Whaaaaat? Germany was in both wars? And it lost twice? Poor Germany!

*

Rude Grandfather: ...I think it would make more sense if they legalized marijuana, and criminalized Brussels sprouts.

*

President: Lock-Up's going over to Hiro's to play Mario Kart.

Rude Boy: Right...she's going over to Hiro's to “play Mario Kart.” At 10 o'clock at night.

President: Nooo! I don't think she's as slutty this year!

*

Co-worker: Me and (other co-worker) are going out again tonight.

Rude Boy: I thought you vowed never to go out with him again after he fell asleep in the bathroom at Denny's for three hours.

Co-worker: We decided not to go to Denny's this time.

Rude Boy: I think you might be missing the point.

*

President: One of my staff told me today that his most disliked word is “cunt,” and another one told me her most disliked word is “moist.” So I kept going around saying “moist cunt” to both of them.

*

President: What's the point in playing a female character if you can't admire the womanly curves?

*

President: Japan's population fell by a record number this year.

Rude Boy: Hm...well I don't think I can solve that problem by myself, but I'm willing to try.

Japanese traffic

Previous experiences with Japan had girded me against nearly all the vagaries of culture shock, but there was one part of the country that just didn't wash: The driving was just plain messed up. I haven't had the pleasure yet, but I've gleaned a fair amount just by observing my surroundings, such as the razor-thin alleys and switchbacks that pass for residential streets in the country. Reed Richards would be hard-pressed to squeeze through the average Japanese neighbourhood. Roads near my university were so poorly maintained that cars rolled up and down like a ship on stormy seas, creating the impression that everyone was constantly flashing their lights at you, a prospect that seems not entirely unrealistic to a foreigner in Japan.

Vehicles are not allowed to turn left on a red in Japan, which to me seemed totally bizarre until I realised the reason for it. Fact is, stop lines are generally set back several hundred kilometres from their associated intersection, requiring all Japanese motorists to carry a telescope in the glove compartment in order to discern when the light changes. This would make any attempts to creep up to and slip around the corner potentially disastrous. The eccentric positioning of these stop lines is, in turn, a necessity borne out of the narrow streets, as any lateral traffic that turns towards you needs to be able to swing into your lane without punching you in the face, otherwise buses, fire engines, and monster trucks would find most every route impassable.

But that's just the conditions; the real issue is the participants. Driving in Japan is less a means of transportation and more a contest to see who can break the largest number of traffic laws at a time. When I first arrived and began observing the traffic, the entire ecosystem seemed chaotic and dangerous. Japanese drivers constantly made risky manoeuvres that would have caused Canadian passengers to scream in fear and anger. They pulled out to block an entire lane so that they could turn in. If somebody ahead of them was waiting to make a right turn, they freely swerved around them, continuing on like it was no thing.

While often in Canada the centre line may as well be a physically impassable barrier, here it does little more than demarcate the midpoint between either side of the road. You park wherever you can, be it in a marked parking space, a random nook or cranny, the middle of a busy thoroughfare, a stranger's living room, on roofs, in alleys, every way but upside down, really. People whip around at a startling pace, dodging grannies and inconveniently placed hydro poles, giving the reflexes and brake-pads of every other driver a good solid workout, and it's all just considered normal.

Pedestrians aren't much better, possessing a relationship with self-preservation that is antagonist at best. They are fond of wandering around on the road when there's a perfectly good sidewalk across the street, swaying back and forth, stumbling around blind corners, and generally presenting as large a profile as possible when ambulating in groups, for the benefit of any casual human-hunters should they happen to make a go of it on their way to the store. I ended up becoming eminently comfortable with cars hurtling past my body at breakneck speeds, casually forgiving scandalous incursions into my personal space bubble that would earn them a stream of expletives and public humiliation in Canada.

At about the seven-month mark, however, it finally dawned on me that while the Japanese style was certainly much less cautious, it wasn't necessarily worse. I never actually encountered an accident, after all, despite weekly witnessing situations that in Canada would have caused ruination or, at best, an interminable delay as the confused drivers tried to work out how to extricate their vehicles from the tangle they'd tied. Japanese drivers, meanwhile, balletically weave between each other at high speed, never in doubt, never in danger. It was frankly beautiful to see in action. It was as if tight Japanese traffic conditions had forced the drivers to hone a better sense of timing and spatial understanding, a deeper intuition regarding the intentions of the vehicles around them, or, if not that, then at least they as Japanese drivers had a better sense than I had of how another Japanese driver was liable to react at any given moment.

In other words, all these differences that had initially seemed incredible turned out to have their own logic, which became perfectly clear once I'd discovered it – much like many things I came to grips with in Japan. It was an interesting revelation. Culture really is pervasive. When we imagine foreign countries, we think of the food, the music, the language, but the driving culture doesn't generally occur to us until we're forced to confront it. And, as in all those other cases, unfamiliar doesn't automatically mean worse.

My first academic conference

“Good morning everyone,” I say, “and thank you all for being here. My name is Rude Boy Abroad, I'm a fourth year Philosophy student, and I just spent last year studying abroad to Japan, where I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to not only study some Philosophy in Japanese, but also some Japanese Philosophy, as well. And today, I'd like to share with you a little bit of what I learned.”

I'm about to present at an annual academic conference, a challenge I decided to take for the noble and sophisticated reason that it might look good on a resumee or grad school application, though being able to tell people that I was “presenting at a conference” was a nice bonus. The turnout isn't great, but about what I expected given the time of morning. I'm wearing my brand new suit – a $400 black check – with a blue-striped silk tie and a pair of work shoes that I bought when I was hired at the grocery store seven years ago and which were until recently flecked with fish entrails.

I'd considered a moral defence of authoritarianism, but ended up going with a little introduction to Japanese Philosophy just on the off-chance that this might impress old Saburou in Finance or whatever. Plus, all kinds of people might know Republic or even Buddhism better than me, but nobody in the room was likely to have a firmer grasp of Japanese Philosophy in particular, so at least I wouldn't get shredded.

As the fated date drew near, my encroaching presentation rapidly came to dominate my thoughts. I was constantly revising and editing, scrutinizing just what would make it into the scant 15 minutes I'd been given, and in what order. How much background was necessary? Could I safely assume that the audience would know anything about Japan or Philosophy? And should I go for depth, or breadth? I spent many late nights lying awake in the dark, rehearsing in my mind, refining my phrasing, spicing up the slow parts, thinking of what jokes I might use.

Ideally, I wanted to be on the first day of presentations, but before lunch – giving me enough time to get acclimated, but still strike hard and fast. When the programme was finally published, I was dismayed to see that my session was grouped among the very first, bright and early at 9:00 sharp. But then again, this would free me up to enjoy the rest of the conference without distraction, and, you know, give people more of a chance to come up and gush, get my autograph, sexually proposition me, etc.

And quelle surprise, the committee actually managed to put me with another couple of Asia-related presentations. Given the gross underrepresentation of Eastern teachings in the formal study of Philosophy – which was another reason for my choice of topic – I'd expected to get tossed into one of the “miscellaneous” sessions, but they'd actually managed to find a common thread between three of us. Good show. The first presentation of the session was about yoga and misconceptions committed by the West in its appropriation of it, and the second tackled 60s counterculture and the Beatles' disillusionment with Indian spirituality when they actually travelled to India. Now it's my turn.

I plant my feet, place my hands on the lectern, and rock the house.

I feel eminently confident and knowledgeable. Words spill fluidly from my face. People seem to like it. The Study Abroad coordinator will say that she's seen over 50 presenters at this conference over the years, and that I was “by far one of the best.” I do the entire thing from memory, which is kinda my thing, allowing me to speak naturally and maintain eye contact with the audience, and this rumour spreads over the next two days. And at no point do I forget what I'm talking about or find that I've accidentally inserted pornography into any of my slides.

Following this, we form a panel and invite questions. The very first one is, “Given that all of these religions offer such tranquility, why haven't we achieved world peace?” So much for gradual introduction. The whole thing spirals into increasingly abstract and complex territory from there, but yields a really interesting discussion about faith, inclusiveness, and the modern world.

And with that, I'm cut loose. I spend the next two days communing with randoms (some presenters, some not) and attending others' sessions. The most compelling presentation, to me, is about self-concept and female masturbation, of which I harbour a deep fascination. I notice that while about 98.7% of ordinary conversations on campus open with a declaration of how drunk the speaker was last night, which is great, casual encounters in this environment quickly turn to phrases like “Well, considering the socioeconomic factors ingrained in that paradigm...” My new suit garners good reviews. President thinks I'm “spiffy as fuck.” A guy friend tells me I “look like a sexy businessman.” 

The first day concludes with a Wine and Cheese but I'm driving, so I give the bartender my free drink tickets and tell her the next two are on me. I happen to strike up a conversation with one of the committee members, and when I tell him I'd like to go to the banquet tomorrow but lack the cash, he quietly hooks me up with a ticket. Great guy.

When the second day's presentations end, I drive President back to her house and we hang out in her room for a while as I watch her do her makeup, which is goddamn fascinating.

“I missed you so much,” I tell her. Earlier this week we'd stopped by the campus pub and had a few beers, which definitely made class more interesting after, but more to the point it was the first chance she and I'd had to really sit down and hang out in a year and a half. Back in the cowboy days when it was just the two of us trying to run a student club with next to no help, we saw each other constantly. These days I barely know what's going on in her life. So it's really, powerfully good to spend some quality time with her for once, and now as much as ever.

At the hotel banquet hall, the food is good, the atmosphere is jovial, the music is...ok, although the DJ takes a little too long to cotton on that college-educated partiers don't take well to Blurred Lines. The keynote is about epistemical injustice, and President wonders what the waitresses think of us as we sit and listen, riveted.

Also, the drinks flow freely. I'm driving, but President is having fun imbibing, which is the important thing, and I'm certainly still enjoying the night so whatever. President gets pretty trashed but doesn't show it much, which is disappointing. The profs get it on it a little too. Actually, the profs take it to new levels. We dance for like four hours. Female flesh is everywhere, arms and chests and shoulders and legs, all swaying sexily.

Some guy wanders in from stage left. He doesn't seem terribly out of place, but readily admits that he's not part of the conference, and just came in when he saw the party. This would be fine, honestly...except that he starts making the girls uncomfortable. In the course of about five minutes, he tells me that President is “super into” him, me, one of the committee members, one of the out-of-towners, some guy across the room, everybody, really. What a slut. He promises to hook me up with whatever girl I want so I try to turn it back on him, but he tells me that he's in Trades and “the girls in this crowd want a guy with an IQ higher than a hundred.”

President shuts him down pretty capably but he doesn't take the hint, so when she goes back to dance she has me watch her drink. Within moments of her leaving he tries to take it from me, but I'm too quick and manage to keep it out of his grasp. I glare at him and point aggressively in his chest and ask what the fuck he's doing, and he laughs, says something I can't hear, and walks off to bother somebody else.

I sidebar with a waitress, who doesn't see the danger but says they're watching him. He sits by himself and gives me the evil eye from across the room, and when we finally leave at 1 am two waitresses are talking to him. My main fear was that he'd try to follow us out, but we make good our escape and head for President's house, carting two of her friends and a guy that one of them has been all over all night. Frustratingly, nothing comes of that.

Legally, my Class 7 only allows me to carry one passenger, meaning I don't have much practise carrying this much weight in the car, which starkly affects my acceleration and braking. We're pushing over 3000 revs just to keep from standing still. The fuel gauge needle plummets at an alarming rate. We run by somebody's house to grab more alcohol and when we try to set off again, the combined influence of a hill, ice, four passengers, and four tires in the trunk proves too much for my mighty four-cylinder, 20-year-old Toyota Camry to overcome, and two people have to get out for a minute just so we can get turned around. It's kind of embarrassing.

At President's, the others have drunkenness to keep them going, so I just lie down on the couch and listen to them chatter. I think back to the banquet hall, where President and I sat together and reflected on our relationship. We've known each other for an extremely eventful four years now. We recall some of the formative moments: me convincing a half-Japanese girl to make out with her; me convincing a Japanese girl to make out with her; her coming back from the bathroom at a bar to find me making out with a Japanese girl; me then convincing that Japanese girl to make out with her; all kinds of stuff. I can't help but smile. After so much time, I'd almost forgotten how much I love her.

A few months later we'll have another, very interesting, adventure, but that's another story.

I want to ride my bicycle

Hurm.

Mother Russia caught a bad break within a week of arriving in Japan: After heading downtown and spending a couple of hours shopping, she returned to where she'd parked her bicycle only to find it gone. Uncharacteristically, she burst into tears. A young Japanese chap, spotting a winsome hottie in distress, swooped in, ascertained the cause of the problem, and assured her that he would search for it on her behalf. When she came home and related this story to me, I pictured him delving into seedy bars throughout Sanjou-Shijou like Rorschach in Watchmen, demanding information, cracking skulls when he failed to get the reception he desired, tirelessly striving to repatriate the errant machine.

In reality, he probably asked around at the local police huts, perhaps on nearby Kiyamachi. Bicycle theft, though a popular activity when the opportunity presents itself, is quite difficult in Japan due to a lock placed on the rear wheel of every unit. More likely, hers had been collected because she'd parked it illegally, not a big deal throughout much of the city but a potentially serious nuisance in the downtown area. They take them away in big trucks, hoisting them up through sheer muscular fortitude. At bigger stores, it's also somebody's job to go outside and redress the ranks every so often, to conserve space; once again, the locks leave them no choice but to pick them up and heave them to their new resting spot.

In return for a modest fine, her bicycle was returned to her with no further complications, and as if that wasn't enough, the guy lent her his bicycle in the meantime, claiming that he lived and worked close enough that it didn't really matter. In fact he tried to just give it to her, and it was she who demanded his contact information so that she could return it later. The following weekend she went to a barbecue at his house, so I'm not entirely convinced he wasn't making a play, but if he wasn't, well isn't that just Japanese kindness for you!

Had this helpful stranger not appeared, she would have been in a bit of a jam, because bicycle is by far one of the most common methods of transportation in Japan. Coming from Canada, I have a lot of trouble thinking of it as anything other than a child's toy, but in Japan, there is absolutely nothing undignified or stupid-looking about it. Schoolgirls ride to school. Suited businessmen ride to work. Stylish young people ride between engagements. It's even common to carry a passenger, regardless of whether or not your particular model was built to carry a passenger, their feet flapping in the wind, seemingly ever in danger of toppling straight off onto the cement but somehow never doing so.

Now you might want to wax poetic and spew speculation as to why Japan's unique culture has driven it to adopt the bicycle as such a prevalent means of transportation (and maybe throw in something about how the trains are so quiet, which you will believe to eternity unless you're avant-garde enough to venture anywhere outside Kantou). Actually though, we sort of know the answer. As I had it explained to me in my Japanese Foreign Policy class, the first few economic movements of postwar Japan can be examined by their top three most desirable commodities:

The early years, 1945-1950, and the Korean boom, 1950-1953: radio, bicycle, sewing machine

Jinmu boom, 1954-1957: refrigerator, washing machine, television set

Izanagi boom, 1965-1970: aircon, car, colour TV

You can see how this reflects changing markets and a gradual return to prosperity, as we progress from basic mechanical necessities to modern luxuries. But for our purposes here, you can see how the bicycle was established early on as a must-have item. Still is today.

(Another historical footnote for you: My mother tells me that when she was a ryuugakusei herself (completely coincidental to my own Japanese aspirations), it was quite usual to buy a dilapidated bike, ditch it at the train station, and grab another abandoned one when you arrived at your destination station. When you were finished whatever you'd come to do, you would toss your new friend, train back to your original station, and then grab a bicycle with which to head home, possibly even the same one you'd bought. This sounds like a very interesting system with startling implications for the principles of Touka Koukan, but unfortunately I can neither confirm nor deny it, as I have never lived in Toukyou during the 1980s.)

So despite my protestations, bicycles are pretty entrenched into the daily reality of Japan, where they are not just discreetly convenient but actually own the sidewalk. As you will discover if you spend more than two minutes in the country, Japanese bicycles are all equipped with a bell, whose distinctive cry carries over the roiling chaos of life to seize attention and scatter crowds. It's a pretty demanding little sound, in fact, of which cyclists are unafraid to make liberal use, and it was some time before I was able to start interpreting it as “Excuse me, pardon me,” rather than “Hey, dumbass, out of the way!”

Though it helps that nobody in Japan wears helmets (as there is no law mandating it), I can't quite shake the impression that a bicycle automatically makes any rider look like a ponce. I never did give in, partially also because I secretly find them kind of terrifying, so instead I preferred to ride the train, which is much more fun and interesting anyway. However, nearly everyone else at my dorm bought one as soon as they could. They rode them to Cologne's mom's house. They rode them to Sanjou-Shijou. They even rode them to class, which always puzzled me, because the university was so close it seemed to save no time whatsoever. I would often depart at the same time as a rider began fiddling with locks and navigating bike-unfriendly paths, be overtaken halfway through, and then once more assume the lead in the final stretch as they stood waiting to cross the road to the bicycle parking lot, or searched feverishly for a vacant spot.

That said, I wasn't completely left bereft of two-wheeled temptation. I always thought that Sorachi Hideaki gave Gintama protagonist Gintoki a scooter because they're so unconscionably goofy, but then I arrived and found out that no, that is just considered a legitimate form of transportation here, especially among starving students. At my university, they even had their own parking lot, filled with rows upon rows upon rows of the little machines; when fourth block ended, their owners would leap astride them and take off in roaring crowds of a hundred at a time.  And, lacking a car, I came to badly want one of my own. Because, you know, I was too cool to ride a bicycle, but there's real dignity in a scooter.

Kanadajin Tales!

Just because I'm not a gaijin at the moment doesn't mean that the people around me have stopped saying hilarious things.

*

President: I don't really go to that bar much anymore. Not since my one friend got knocked up with twins and the other one moved to PoCo to be a stripper.

*

President: You gonna walk me all the way to my class again?

Rude Boy: Yeah, I always have plenty of time to make it all the way over there and then get back to mine.

President: “Plenty of time” meaning “less than five minutes late?”

Rude Boy: Sometimes ten.

*

Rude Boy: Magma is beneath the earth, lava has already surfaced. Though I don't know why you need two words. I mean what the fuck do you call water when it's still underground?

Friend: Groundwater.

Rude Boy: Um, ok, what do you call gold when it—

Friend: Groundgold.

*

Rude Boy: How's Valentino?

Jugs: He's being detained under the Mental Health Act in a hospital in Salmon Arm.

(beat)

Rude Boy: Why Salmon Arm?

*

Rude Boy: I really badly want to learn more Korean.

Jugs: Maybe you need a Korean girlfriend.

Rude Boy: Maybe. There's a pretty hot K-girl that I see around campus sometimes.

Jugs: Well, get on that! (beat) Literally!

*

Jugs: The Chinese girl at Subway made me a terrible sub and I'm really upset about it! Lol

Rude Boy: Yeah? Cause id really like to...“eat her sandwich.”

*

President's ex-boyfriend: The job market's pretty much shit everywhere. Like my friend in Kentucky, he says, “I theoretically know how to manufacture bioweapons, and I'm working in a cafeteria! Serving bioweapons!”

*

Driving down a long, straight, four-lane stretch of road at 1 am, I saw a few teenagers standing around. One was crouched next to the curb, but I assumed he was just readying himself for a fast-action jaywalk when I passed – until, that is, he ran straight at my car, actually leading me a little. I swerved away and sharply accelerated, then loosed a blast from the horn, which, unfortunately, was probably very much to their satisfaction, but felt kind of necessary, since I was now hurtling through an uncontrolled intersection going the wrong way.

The game, I surmise, was to try and touch me as I passed, which struck me as an exceptionally stupid pastime. Setting aside how much it would hurt to touch 1000 pounds of metal travelling at 60+ kph, what if, you know, I had run him the fuck over? I tried to decide if I'd have played such a game when I was in high school. Yeah I totally would have. But you know what. Bullfighting, BASE jumping, driving at face-melting speeds, doing face-melting amounts of heroin – I totally identify with the need to slap death on the ass. Go out and do what you have to. But for God's sake, if you're going to risk your life for the thrill of it, don't implicate anybody else! I love driving, don't fucking ruin that for me.

Although, I'm sure they weren't doing this to push themselves to the limit and conquer the last enemy that shall be destroyed. They were probably just idiots.

*

Rude Boy: Damn, looks like the hot Chinese girl from Subway has a boyfriend! Better think of a way to break them up.

Jugs: That should NOT be your first reaction.

Rude Boy: What, like I'm going to sleep with her while they're still dating?! That would just be immoral!

President: You're a terrible person.

*

Rude Boy's father: Do you charge your phone every night? Or whenever it is you sleep?

*

Rude Boy: They're razing the doutonnbori bridge to make way for an outdoor swimming pool ARE YOU ACTUALLY KIDDING ME HASHIMOTO WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

President: Umm k?

President: Outdoor pool = Osaka girls in bikins tho? Lol

Rude Boy: ...down with the doutonbori bridge

President: Lol

*

Rude Boy: I'm putting all my stuff together on top of the fridge. So don't try to set things on fire with the beer or drink the butane.

*

President: Hey, sup.

Rude Boy: Hey Sugartits.

President and friend: (blink)

President: I guess that's my new nickname. I'm not even going to question it.

*

Classmate: (hands Rude Boy a printout)

Rude Boy: Thanks. You should be a quarterback.

Classmate: ...because of my pass?

Other classmate: That joke was bad and you should feel bad.

*

Politics major girl: She and I had a prior class together.

Rude Boy: You had a pirate class together?!

Politics major girl: A prior class.

Rude Boy: Oh, I got excited for a minute there. I thought maybe this was a new program they were offering this year, like you could get your Major in Piracy or something.

Politics major girl: I think you can, it's called “Business.”

*

Jugs: Is it still cold as tits out?

Rude Boy: Nah, it warmed up.

Jugs: Hm. I'll take two jackets anyway, it might be cold as tits again later.

*

Jugs: Valentino's a straight gay man. He's completely straight, but he dates dudes. It's weird.

*

Driving home one day, doing about 90 down a long straight stretch, a deer jumped out at me. Like a moron I hit my brakes and swerved too hard (luckily the animal immediately went “Nope, fuck this” and bounded away), and unfortunately it turned out I was on black ice, you know, just for good measure. 

 completely lost control and was pretty much just along for the ride from here on in. My entire vehicle swung around 270 degrees, so that I was now perpendicular to the road, with still going what had to have been at least 70 or higher, which is generally faster than you want to be going when you're travelling straight sideways. My rear wheels carved a huge scar through the snow as I slid but, incredibly, I didn't hit anything other than a few withered weeds. And this is going to sound like posturing, but at no point during this did I feel at all alarmed or frightened, but just like, well, nothing to do now but wait until we stop. It was interesting.

Once I finally slid to a halt, a looong way down the road, I sort of sat there for a moment to see if anything else was going to happen, then, when I realised it wasn't, I set the car into gear, eased back onto the road, and continued on my way, except ratcheting things down to 60.

Coincidentally, a mechanic later looked over my winter tires and was like “lolno” – still good tread left, but grown hard as tits. To recap, deer, black ice, bad tires – so, completely my fault, but also kind of not. I am kind of glad I had the experience though, as I now know what it feels like to spin around and to slide like that. But perhaps more to the point, it was a goddamn miracle that it happened on a straight stretch.

*

Jugs: I have three boyfriends and two girlfriends...except one of my boyfriends broke up with me because I wouldn't stop sleeping with his ex-boyfriend...and one of my girlfriends has a Japanese boyfriend who doesn't know about me.

Rude Boy: I'm going to quote that in Kandajin Tales and provide no context whatsoever.

*

Jugs's coworker: My hair today is ri-dyke-ulous! (beat) It's funny because I'm a dyke.