At this point, the God of Shit-Just-Got-Real adjusted the switch in the back of my brain from Repentant Douche to Repentant Douche Who Was 100% In The Wrong.

“So you’re ready to admit that the taxi cab did not hit you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re ready to admit that you damaged the taxi cab?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll pay for this damage?”

“Yes.”

“And in the case that we release you from jail – please keep in mind that this is a hypothetical and I am in no way saying that we are going to release you – but in that case, if the police or any other authorities contact you, you will immediately respond to such contact?”

“Yes. I am very very sorry for all of this. I did a horrible thing and I will do everything in my power to make amends. I would be eternally grateful if you could find it in your heart to allow me to go home.”

“It will be considered, but I cannot make any promises at this time.”

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Back in the holding cell, after reading the rules another hundred or so times, lunch was served through the small door slot in the form of two small loaves of sweet white bread with packets of marmalade, strawberry jam, margarine, and a mini cheese log.

Really, Japan?! Sweet white bread?! We don’t have it bad enough in here without you giving us diabetes?? Plus, are you seriously trying to fill us up so that we have to take a dump in a cramped cell with 11 other dudes who are on edge enough as it is?!

Having said that, I must admit the mini cheese log was a culinary delight. An absolute triumph. I retract my above complaints.

Shortly after lunch, I was called to a small room where again on the opposite side of a plate-glass window sat Nishida-sensei.

“So you saw the pictures from the video?” he said with a wry smile, shaking his head.

I nodded pathetically.

“And your recollection of being hit by the taxi?”

“Apparently fabricated out of self-preservation.”

“Well, I’ve contacted the taxi cab company, apologized on your behalf, and am hoping that they will accept payment for damages in lieu of pressing charges.”

“That would be great. Thank you very very much.”

“I also submitted a statement to the police and prosecutor promising that you will compensate the taxi cab company and if released you will cooperate fully. Given your roots here and lack of priors, I tried to make the case that you are not a threat to flee.”

“Thank you very very much. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything that you’re doing for me. I’m very very sorry for all the trouble.”

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“I can’t believe you didn’t just apologize at the scene,” a young police officer said as he counted out the cash that had been removed from my wallet and inventoried. Upon returning to the local precinct, I was informed that the prosecutor had granted my release and as such my belongings were being returned.

“Me either,” I replied.

“A case like this usually ends right there. You didn’t need go through all the rest of this.”

“I’m really very sorry. I had a terrible attitude.”

“Just put your thumbprint here acknowledging that your belongings have been removed and you’re all set to go.”

“Thank you so much. I’m terribly sorry about everything.”

“Wait, where are your shoes?”

I couldn’t help but smile sheepishly as I looked down at my bare feet. “I think my sandals were destroyed in the fracas.”

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As I walked out of the precinct and into the throngs of unwitting, blissful tourists and carousers, and inhaled the cool nighttime air, three things flittered through my mind.

1) God damn are these police officers nice. After being a complete dick when taken in, not only did they release me with kind smiles and words of encouragement, but they had given me a pair of sneakers to get home in. Sure they were grimy low-top Converse sneaks that were so small my heels stuck out of them, but were they trying to kill me with kindness? Cut me some slack, Japan.

2) God damn is freedom awesome. I never realized how essential and fragile it really is. You never know when you may be stripped of it for something that you didn’t even do and be powerless to do anything about it. Or, as in this case, you never know when you may be stripped of it for something that you totally did because you are a fuckin’ idiot.

3) Wait, what the shit? I never got the chance to bunk with other inmates to hear if what they say about forced blow jobs is true and to ask one of the recipients if he’s only gay in jail or if he’s also gay in real life. And if he says he’s not gay in real life to ask him why he doesn’t just beat off in the bathroom to fantasies of naked chicks? Cause that’ll do the trick, bro.

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“Brace yourself for an ass-reaming,” Nishida-sensei warned as we walked from the train station to the taxi cab company headquarters.

“I understand,” I replied, feeling as nervous as I had ever been in my life.

About a week had passed since I’d been released and Nishida-sensei had arranged this trip so that I could apologize and deliver the roughly $3,000 for damages to the taxi (a couple small dents to the hood), compensation for the time that the taxi was out of service, and apology money for all the trouble caused.

It was time to take my well-earned medicine.

“When I contacted them before, they were extremely angry so they will likely give you an extremely harsh scolding. They’ll be screaming so loud and fast with spit flying everywhere that you probably won’t understand everything they’re saying, but just stand there and take it. Keep quiet and apologize repeatedly.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you very much.”

Upon arrival at the taxi headquarters, we were led into a reception room with a meeting table and partitioned kitchen. The owner, a sober-looking older gentlemen sporting a gray suit and crew cut, pulled out our chairs and then had a seat himself across the table. I remained standing and Nishida-sensei motioned to the owner that I was going to give an apology.

I had been rehearsing it in my head sense being released and now it flowed from my mouth in possibly the most serious tone I’d ever taken in my life.

“I am usually an upstanding citizen, but for some reason that night I drank way too much alcohol, lost myself, and committed an unconscionable offense against you and your company. I am extremely sorry and I regret this very very much and will never do anything like it again. I hope that you will accept my profuse apologies.”

The owner seemed pretty satisfied with this and only nodded a few times as I spoke before focusing his attention on Nishida-sensei who handed over a document stating the facts of the case and that by paying the roughly $3,000 in compensation, the case would come to a close.

As the owner disappeared to another room to stamp the document with his official seal, a female office worker served three glasses of oolong tea with ice. Sure I prefer jasmine tea for its sweet aroma and health benefits, and wouldn’t serve oolong tea to an AIDS-infested leper, but was the taxi cab company also trying to kill me with kindness? I thought I told you to cut me some slack, Japan!!!

“People can change when they drink too much alcohol,” the owner said pensively after handing the sealed document back to Nishida-sensei and counting out the roughly $3,000 in cash. “You really must be careful about drinking too much because you cannot go around causing trouble like this. It is unacceptable and I’m glad to see that you are remorseful and will no longer engage in such delinquent behavior.”

“I will not, sir. I am very very sorry.”

And that was it. Killed with kindness again. God damn bastard taxis. Scourge of the earth, indeed.

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