“We just see Trust School, and then we go to your apartment,” said the driver, barely making a right turn in time to avoid serious repercussions.

“Apaato?” I asked. “Hoteru ja arimasen?”

“No, no…not hotel,” she replied. “You stay apartment.”

I looked back at Matt, bewildered.

“You think I know?” snickered Matt.

Had these people relocated me to Mito? You see, my contract had me assigned to a city called Chikusei, which had recently been created by merging four smaller towns. City merging is all the rage in Japan. I was supposed to stay in a hotel in Mito for one night, and then get shipped off to Chikusei. But now, the driver was telling me I had an apartment in Mito.

‘Aaight,’ I thought. ‘You said you were gonna have to learn to adapt, so…let’s adapt.’

We pulled up to a small apartment complex in front of which was parked a small white car. I laughed at the thought of whoever drove that thing. It was just…so little. Kind of cute, actually. Well, until I realized it was totally in my way. Someone had parked it right next to the building, in the walkway that we were using to get to my apartment. There wasn’t enough room for a person AND absurdly heavy luggage, so I had to kind of support my bag…my heaviest bag, mind you…on my knee and walk with it in front of me. VERY painful.

The driver walked me to the apartment door, while I carried my bag as best as I could. She opened the door, and all I could think of was getting the bag inside and setting it down. And so, I committed Japan Foul #1.

“Oh! No! No shoes in apartment!”

…Lady…I’m carrying 70 pounds on one arm, and you’re expecting me to take my shoes off?! Good lord, how to the Japanese move in and out of apartments? Do…do they just form a chain of shoed and non-shoed…shod…people and pass the baggage in? What about second story apartments? Do they use catapults? How in the world do you move a refrigerator into an apartment if you’re trying to take off your shoes? How do you have fire drills, escape earthquakes…shoot, run from homicidal maniacs if you’re always concerned about proper footwear?

…But I complied. “Oh, so sorry! Er…gomen nasai!”

But, eventually, even with the shoes on/off crap, I got all my luggage into the room…but trust me. That’s the last thing you wanna try and do in a suit. Matt collapsed in a corner, and I just leaned up against a wall.

“Okay…you stay here tonight,” said the woman. “Then, you come to Trust school tomorrow…3 pm. Okay? Training.”

I nodded. Not like I could do much of anything else, what with the “tuberculosis” cramping my lungs.

“Good, good. You rest. Get sleep. Futon in loft.” She pulled a remote control off the wall. “Here is air conditioner. See? Hot, cold, on, off. Okay?”

That’s right, people. The air conditioners in Japan are remote controlled. Slicker than you realize. Oh, I hear you all. “Why would I want a remote control for my AC?” But when you can sit and watch TV, think “It’s kinda hot” and then turn down the AC without walking to the thermostat? You’ll know why I find it so awesome. Only drawback is…there is no other control. Not even on the dern AC unit. So, ya know…if you lose the remote, you’re pretty much screwed. So, they’re not geniuses. Just…lazy at true laziness.

“Okay,” I panted. “Arigato gozaimashita.” And with that, she left.

“Dang,” said Matt. “This place uses space a thousand times better than my apartment. You lucked out…for one night at least.”

“Yeah…I hope my actual place is this nice.”

“The rural places are usually pretty big, man. I think you’re gonna be alright.”

“Well…as long as I don’t have to take my shoes on and off to move in…”

“…Holy crap, she called you on that?”

“Yeah, man…almost bit my head off.”

“…Dude, the customs don’t apply to you yet. Don’t worry. You could intentionally set fire to them and they’d apologize for getting in the way of your match…blowtorch…flamethrower…whatever.”

“Tell that to her.”

“Whatever, man. Tell you what. Put on some more comfortable clothes. We’re gonna visit the Trust School, so that they know your face.”

“…I’m like…the only non-NBA signed black dude within 6000 miles, man.”

“Right, well…whatever. Get dressed. We’s out!”

…Yep. That’s Matt for ya.

To Be Continued…