Narita cravings

What happens to you when you remove humanity from a completely everyday situation—craving water? Just a bit over an hour ago I was running from Terminal 2 of the Narita airport in Tokyo to Terminal 1. Only 17 minutes left before boarding began, I did have about 20 minutes of walking left; but, WHOA!, there is a smoking room!!! I want a cig and I sure as hell am going to stop for a few minutes—to hell with the flight! You see, I want something and I just go for it, like every normal human being. This is a basic desire and since I did not yet quit I am definitely going to indulge, given the opportunity.

Bliss! There is something about satisfying a sudden craving. Awesome! Just like a 3-year-old, I am happy.

Right behind me, there is a Spaniard. He is a typical specimen. No offense, please, and I hope I am not generalizing or whatever. He just looks like a typical man from Spain, he is dressed appropriately as well, and to crown it all he he speaking with a heavy spanish accent. Nothing particularly interesting about this man. Nothing jumps out at me. He is completely ordinary. As ordinary as one can possibly get. He is talking in a rathe soft voice and I think my brain had registered him as background noise a while back; my cig is about 1/2 done so it must have been 2-3 minutes. He says something in Spanish and then repeats the same English phrase. Something like “I am sorry but I do not have any local money, can you please help me get some water?” Well, fuck me! How long has he been talking to my back?! And to the ignorant, pierced, tattooed-up cunt over there, flashing her lack of tits to the planet, smoking, and chewing gum with her mouth open? Ah a vending machine! ¥140 for a water. Reach in my pocket, take out five coins, hand it to the Spaniard. He tries to give me $5 bill but I just smile.

The cig warms my finger, indicating that there is not but one puff left and it’s time to run. The Spaniard says “Thank you” and I tell him that he now owes me a beer and is to find me in Philadelphia. He says he will and I run out.

Typing this little story after thinking for a bit about the book that I am reading: Martin Buber’s “I and Thou”—a rather intriguing philosophical specimen just on the subject of the story I told you. There is more than your petty fucking problems. Open your mind sometimes and listen to the Spanish dude pleading for somebody to buy him water! He just might turn into a gorgeous blond and you will end up having the bestest weekend of your life, you know…


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