Kansai Cafe-The Aftermath

Ok, I need to revise my initial take on the cafe/lounge. Its charms began to pale after the first 8 hours. First of all, there was Sleep Apnea Guy—The Revenge a couple cubicles down. Bless my wife for having the perspecuity to buy me a really good pair of noise-canceling headphones. I can handle a little snoring; Kay tells me that I have even been to do it on occasion, hard as that is to believe. But trying to fall asleep while some guy is snuffling and snorting like a drunken bison makes me crazy. At one point, I thought to myself, OK, he has to die; its him or me; let’s do this thing. But the earphones, my playlist, and one of those little Suntory highball cans did the trick, and I was able to get a few hours of sleep in the world’s sqeekiest recliner. 

This has nothing to do with Japan, but the situation brought up an old memory. Those of you in Cleveland know Alan H. Kraus, Esq. as a respected barrister, family man, and good-natured raconteur. It was not always thus. We first met when I was in 5th grade and moved to Beachwood, Ohio; I lived the next street over and a couple houses down. He got me involved in wrestling soon after at the local YMCA, and then we both wrestled for Beachwood High School. He was pretty amiable then as well, but he was as strong as an ox, and once he got riled, you saw another side of his personality. When I was training in school psychology, one of my supervisors told me the kid you really had to watch out for was the one who laughed when he was actually fighting with another kid. I’m not sure Kraus even remembers, but I once saw him laughing while beating the crap out of a kid who picked a fight with him. It was impressive enough that I still recall it 56 years later.

In any case, Kraus and I would go backpacking in the Smokies when we were around 16 years old. On one occasion, our friend Richard Polsky came along with us. We were sleeping under the stars; the weather was good, and there weren’t many bugs. It must have been just around daybreak when I awoke to the sound of cursing and muffled protests. I got my glasses on, and there was Kraus standing over Rich, putting the boot to him, and yelling, “Shut up! Shut the hell up, goddammit!” Rich was trying to get away but couldn’t get out of his sleeping bag and had no idea why he was being attacked; after all, you stop snoring when you wake up. Apparently, Kraus put up with Rich’s buzzsaw-like snoring until he went berserk; I was able to pull Kraus away; eventually he allowed as how he may have overreacted a tad. But again, I digress.

When I woke up, I stumbled out of the cubicle in the direction of the free coffee machine. I had to pass the faux camping area and was stopped in my tracks by the sight of about 20 Japanese men, women, and children sprawled on the astroturf; it looked like some Asian village had been hit by a particularly virulent strain of the Ebola virus and dropped the residents in their tracks. I got packed in record time and headed for the gate. As I write this, I’m in the air, headed for Hong Kong and another 6-hour layover. At least I’ll be in the business-class lounge rather than the stricken Japanese village.