Simple Human Kindness

I bought a book today; it's not the first thing I did nor the most important, but it is at least a place to start. I wanted something to read on the bus and the train back home, so after the movie--I went to see a movie, 300 if it matters, early in the morning. I suppose 10 isn't that early, but I had to get up relatively early in order to get there on time. The only reason to go see a movie that early in the morning is because it's half price. You'll have to plow your way through legions of old people who were awake before you fell asleep, but the savings is worth it to someone as cheap as me.

Yes, I bought a book, Murakami's Portraits in Jazz, a kind of compendium of his impressions of various renowned musicians, some of which are witty and insightful and some downright dull. I gave the woman my 781 yen, and she gave me a book I proceeded to read over 234 yen in donuts I ate in the mall food court. The movie had ended just after a bus had left for the station--there's only one an hour--so I had time to kill. I was up to Chet Baker, when I realized that I had about 5 minutes to walk over to the bus stop. I knew in my head that the bus is usually late, and my desire not to stand in the pouring rain held me back for a moment. But, I had an umbrella, it woudn't be so bad if I had to wait a few extra minutes.

I step outside, open my umbrella, and the force of the wind and rain flips it inside out, nearly snapping the thing in half and certainly rendering it useless. A young man and woman walking by giggled nervously at my misfortune. Between them they carried 3 umbrellas, only one of which was in use. Where was the simple human kindness in laughing at someone whose misery you could alleviate with minimal inconvenience?

In a split second, you have to make decisions that affect your happiness in the here and now. Hindsight always dictates your error in such matters but never takes into account the time in which you have to avoid such error. Ahead of me lay a hundred yen shop, where, I was fairly certain I could buy a replacement umbrella. I still had about 800 yen on me, which would leave me with plenty of money for the bus, the train, and a small snack to stave off the hunger that lunch was intended to iradicate... for a time. I decided against it: if the bus were on schedule, I wouldn't have enough time to buy the umbrella and get to the bus stop. I'd have to wait an hour for the next.

The bus was late. I stood for a good fifteen minutes in the pouring rain. I reconsidered my decision to buy an umbrella, but the inertia of my fear of missing the bus kept my feet firmly planted. I could have stood beneath the eave of a nearby shop, as some who arrived after me--I was the first--were doing, but if I were to do so, the bus wouldn't stop. Someone had to suffer for the good of everyone. I thought, perhaps, I could move under the eave myself and hope someone else would decide to take the good of the group to heart and stand at the sign. Why did I stay? Was it simple human kindness? No, if no one were to give in to my social gambit, it'd be my own selfishness that caused me to miss the bus.

Eventually, it showed up. We all got on.

On the way back to the station, I thought I might've taken a taxi; a few had passed as I was standing there. It would've been a lovely way to screw the eavesdroppers but not me in the process. Though, a taxi would've been at least 600 yen, probably more, and I would've been faced with the possibility of not being able to pay the fare, and even if I could, perhaps not having enough left over for the train home. At the station, I bought my ticket, and had a single 500 yen coin left over. I thought, "what luck! I have enough to buy a proper lunch." I had enough time and money to buy an umbrella instead, but by that point I was soaked anyway, so I might as well get something to eat. I bought 2 tekka maki from a sushi vendor for 180 yen each, which left me with 140 yen to buy something to drink.

The combini had this Itoen jasmine tea I love. I'd never seen it there before, and felt as if even this shitty day could be somewhat redeemed. One bottle of Itoen brand jasmine tea at the Family Mart by the station: 147 yen. Fuck. I bought a small bottle of regular Itoen green tea, because, well, it literally was all I could afford. It was with more than a little melancholy that I read the haiku on the side of the bottle, as I always do, on the train back to Mito. The last of the four drew out in me a kind of anger I hadn't really felt before, not particularly strong, but very bitter:

the knob that opens the door is a warm spring breeze

I plodded the way back to my apartment doing my best to protect my bag from the driving rain that sought to penetrate my very skin. I rethought all my decisions as people in misery do. Did I really need that book? Without it, I might have had enough for the taxi or the tea or a new umbrella. Why did I need to be on that bus? With an hour to spare, I could've gone to the atm, bought a new umbrella, gotten a proper lunch in the food court, etc. The irony is I have money, and have done my best to make it inaccessible... But my inherent pessimism defended my actions: a new umbrella could break just as easily in that wind, and besides, I was already soaked, so the point would be moot. I wanted to blame someone for how miserable I felt, but my analytical mind revealed to me the horrible truth: what I suffered was the direct result of every little decision I had made.