English Spoken Here

Back in my day there was a thing called the Vietnam War and a government enlistment enhancement program called the Draft. Now, as I see it, the draft did more to benefit the other armed forces of the united states such as the U.S. Navy and U.S. Air Force, National Guard units, and the Coast Guard than it did the Army.

I mean, who wanted to be drafted and sent to the frontlines in the Vietnam jungles stamping out landmines and playing catch with mortars and rockets?Not I! I was too smart for that. So, I stepped right up the the plate and joined the United States Air Force. Boy, did I fool them! My first PCS assignment out of technical school was Little Rock, Arkansas.

Talk about culture shock. My first real adjustment came in acquiring an ear for the southern drawls and twangs that surrounded me. Not just the ones in Arkansas, but all those men who were from other parts of the south stationed with me. How did these guys pass the language test to enter the air force??

I'll never forget one guy named Doug who was from Kentucky (backwoods, I am sure). He kept calling me Mack. I don't remember ever telling him my name was Mack. I tried to correct him politely, by informing him my name was Mike not Mack. He quickly replied, "Rat! That's what I said, Mack!"...... Oh.

On another occasion we were working together on a fuel tank pod. I was sitting high atop this gigantic pod which was carried beneath the belly of the B-58 Hustler. http://www.pipers-place.com/SS/AF/pic00268.jpg Doug whistled up to me and hollered, Mack, toss me down those warplers. Now, don't ask me why, but maybe it was embarrassment being the new guy in the shop, so I hurriedly looked around me for something I was working with that was a warpler.

Obviously disappointed in my ignorance, I asked him, " what are warplers?" "Warplers, Mack, warplers! Ya' know?? those things you have in your hand! Those thangs ya'll use to twist the warrs with!"

Suddenly it dawned on me that he was asking for the pliers I was using for twisting the safety wire. http://www.quickcar.net/tools/images/64-010~1.jpg "Oh!" I exclaimed, you want the wire pliers! He obviously didn't appreciate my enunciation and retorted, with explicit exaggeration, "wy-er ply-ers ya' damn yankee! Toss 'em down here!"

It took me sometime to come to know that Chewsdee was the day after Mundee, and New Orleans was actually Nawlins. Oh, and my good friend Doug was from Loovil, Kentucky. I confessed my ignorance and told him I never heard of the place. Man, was I stupid!. "Ya'll ain't never heard of Loovil??" (I soon learned Loovil was actually Louisville.)

Well, just as I was getting tuned in to this new language I was learning, I was transferred to another air base where I had to start the process all over again.... in Japan.

My first night in Japan was bewildering to me. Our plane landed at a base outside of Tokyo, in the city of Yokota. We had two days before we were to head north to our final destination, Misawa, Japan. No sooner did we get billeted that we hopped a train bound for the amazing city of Tokyo.

The first thing I noticed was it was a LOT bigger than in those Godzilla movies! Also it was soooo crowded! And, oh, those lights! Huge neons everywhere with words like Nikon, Yamaha, and Toyota or other famous brands. All else was written in either Kanji or Hiragana/Katakana characters.

Needing to go to the bathroom I found my way (very carefully I might add, for all the good those Japaneses characters did me) to the train station's men's room.

Another cultural shock! The men's room was as big as the Taj Mahal! But nowhere could I find a toilet!! Then I saw all these businessmen squatted down reading their newspapers. Apparently this was a reading room with no seats. It didn't take me long to see their pants were down. Now I knew I was in the men's restroom!

These guys were squatted astride a porcelain trench doing what comes naturally! I groaned. No stalls, no seats, no privacy!! Man I can't do this! I remember my first (and last) attempt was nearly a disaster. I left.

After walking around Tokyo for several hours and going to the Ginza it was time to get a bite to eat. What to eat? Most restaurants had their menus on physical display outside the restaurant in a glass case. The were plastic replicas of the dishes they served. Most of the dishes looked like something from a biology class. Squid, whole fishes, etc.

Then I saw it!! there on a small platter were two hot dogs!! That's all I needed. We went inside and sat down at a table. Being the two biggest men in the room, all eyes were on us!

The waitress shuffled over to us and displayed a silver-toothed smile. She said something neither of us understood. We simply said. Hot Dogs, kudasai. (We learned to say 'please' our first hour there).She stood there a second or two and acted as if she didn't understand us. I repeated our order. Hotdogs, kudasai! Again, she looked perplexed. Nani? (What?)

After repeating this scene a third time she took me by the arm and led me to the display case whereupon I pointed out the hotdogs. Her face lighted with understanding, "Ah, so des! Hoe-too doe-goo". Okay! Another breakthrough!

A bit later she returned with those hoe-too doe-goo's that tasted everybit as badly as they were pronounced.

More to come.