This... is the City. The City of Ohtawara. Me? My name is Joe Seph. I'm a gaijin.
Our tale - which is supposed to sound like the introduction to the radio/tv show Dragnet - begins on a warm sunny day, wholly unlike the day this tale was originally written, as it's August and very, very humid and cloudy.
While it is true that I only recently wrote about sumo wrestling, the following tale did take place that same day - what? You didn't think sumo wrestlers would come to my home town and I wouldn't have an adventure, did you? Truth be told, when I wanted to write about sumo, I had forgotten I had written this story. Probably too giddy from planning my new blog: You Know What I Hate? which was, of course a spur of the moment thing.
Unabashed self-promoting plug over, let me tell you about the day when Ohtawara got heavy. A day when my favourite sumo wrestler o-sumo-san Sekiwake (Sumo's third-highest rank) Musashimaru came to town with his heya (stable) to perform a sumo demonstration.
Arriving at 11AM, he was a sight to behold, standing1.92 meters (6'-3.5") tall and 235 kilograms (520 lbs). In typical Musashimaru fashion, he scowled and bit his bottom lip for the phalanx of photographers. He had his long black hair up in a chonmage (top knot), and was wearing a yukata (Spring robe) over his sumo gear.
After his low-level stable mates made lunch (chanko - a stew that all sumo-saurs eat every day to help keep their girlish figure ('Girlish', as I'm sure you all know, is Slovakian for 'bigger than a breadbox but smaller than a zoo'), Musashimaru put on a sumo demonstration by tossing around sumo-in-training sho-gakusai (primary school kids) on to their heads.
After 10 or 15 seconds of this, the sweaty, breath-sucking Sekiwake (at that time), decided that instead of throwing the kids around, he would traumatize them for life by unfastening their sumo diapers for all the world (IE Ohtawara and this blog) to see. Ugh. Can you imagine if he did this to another professional sumo wrestler? I may never watch the sport again. Or have eyes that work, as I'd probably be forced to stab my own orbs out.
After the demonstration on how to de-pants your opponent for fun and cash, Mushashimaru disappeared into the local hotel - there's only one in Ohtawara as of 1990. I followed a few minutes later - not because I was a sumo fanboy, but rather because all of the free beer and food that all foreigners are privy to when you live in a rural area had reached my kidneys.
I really had to go. Really, really, really. I figured a hotel would be a great place to find a restroom, and did the pee-pee dance over.
Because I'm an idiot and no amount of time spent in Japan would have allowed me to speak the language like a native, I gesticulated and danced in front of the clerk at the front desk. I was pointed to a large vending machine that sold disposable cameras. I did promise myself that if I made it to the restroom in time I would begin studying the language.
Not wanting to confuse anyone else with my stupid game of charades, I set off in a limp (I really, really, really, really had to go!) and finally found a washroom 15 minutes later when I broke into a hotel suite. They really should get stronger locks. Did you know that in this hotel's Royal Deluxe rooms one still has to sleep on a futon?).
I was quickly thrown out of the room by the cleaning staff who were working inside - landing on my muscular butt right in front of a men's room.
Seizing the opportunity, I ran and tried to push the door open, but it was obvious to me that it was being held closed from within. I don't know what came over me, but with a girlish push I forced my way in.
I then saw why I had had difficulty entering - one of Musashimaru's sumo handlers was blocking the door while three others were helping him remove his sumo gear so he could go to the washroom!
There was my hero - butt naked in front of me. My therapist says I'll be find after a few more visits.
Anyhow, Musahshimaru and I chatted with each other separated by the wall of a stall - chatted about women, beer, sumo and women again (he thought Ashley and I should break up), and when I finished that pee (and other), we said Aloha to each other because I thought he was Hawaiian, not realizing he's Samoan.
So... you think that one brush with greatness would have been it for me, right? Well, one week later, Japan's royal Prince and his bride (see HERE) came up to a nearby town. Although I didn't get to see either of them naked, it is a decent enough segue into the next story - I sat on Japan Emperor Hirohito's throne!
This is not a misprint. This is not a dream, a hoax or an imaginary story. About some years and nine months prior to whenever you are reading this, I went fishing with my friend Michael Hutchison at Nikko's Chuzenji-ko (that's a lake). After getting many bites from mosquitoes, Michael offered to show me where he works - a fish farm where they are doing research on salmon and trout.
While there, I had to go to the bathroom, so he showed me to a little wooden outhouse - apparently when the Emperor used to go fishing in the area, this is where he would visit when he had to use the toilet. I sat down on his throne, read the royal graffiti--everything said 'Hirohito wuz here', and realized that no matter how successful I might become in life, I was always going to be number two to an Emperor.
Somewhere wondering what the Emperor did about splinters in his tushie,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is a rocky little number by Survivor - BODY BLOW though I prefer this outtake by Jensen Ackles from one of my favourite tv shows SUPERNATURAL.
PS - I had at least 10 more toilet jokes I wanted to use, but I decided not to use them. I just wanted you to know how lucky you are.
PPS - in the photo at the top, a lower level sumo wrestler helps re-tie Mushashimaru's (right) sumo gear aka mawashi at the Ohtawara sumo event.
