Ice cream eating, beverage sippin', and kicking it on the curb: it's an excellent season for people watching.
Of course, sitting out amidst the stream of vain and fashionable humanity makes you a target for the more brave and brazen to strike up a conversation. And unfortunately, it's usually the people I least want to talk to that approach.
Last night PJ and I were observing the parade. 'Fabulous hair!" "Is that a dress or a shirt?" "It's adorable when drunk boys hold hands!"
A guy rocked up to us wearing sweatpants and a mesh vest, a green-accented can of beer in his pocket. He pointed to PJ and exclaimed, "Malaysia!"
PJ's not Malaysian.
He was about 50 or 60, wiry, tan. He nattered at us for a bit and I bemusedly fielded his questions. He stopped to shake my hand every sixty seconds. Yoroshiku, ne!
After ascertaining our nationalities and length of stay in Japan (prerequisite information for any conversation with a foreigner, I think it's written in the law), he started insisting that PJ certainly looked like "Michael's" daughter. In fact, was she not actually related to him??
We told him that she was not.
He persisted. But everyone says that, right? Can you moonwalk? He did a little demonstration.
No, in fact, it was the first time she'd heard about this likeness.
Ah, he said knowingly, I've got a good eye.
He then segued into cadging a free English lesson off me.
"This is a pen!"dayo! I learned it in school! これはぺんですよ、ね。
"very good", what does it mean?
"come on baby", って、何の意味？
We finally escaped him after ten or so minutes. It was okay for the first few minutes, but then he started repeating himself and the MJ references got tiresome.
Is it too much to ask that some interesting, non-drunk and crazy people would stop and chat once in awhile? As amusing as a geezer moonwalk is.