A little slip of paper
This morning I woke up very late and with a slight headache.
"Late! I'm late for work!!"
I rushed out the door with no breakfast.
I missed the subway and had to wait for the following train. It usually takes
me two hours to reach work. Today it took three.
I work in a laboratory. I'm studying medicine. Almost everyone else in my lab
is a senior doctor or professor; they are experienced researchers. I am a
university graduate soon entering medical school. A real rookie.
I am not in a position to be late.
By the time I walked into my lab, I was nearly out of breath from running. I
take two trains and a bus to reach my laboratory.
As usual, the first person to see me upon entering my lab was Dr. Bermuda, a
Japanese gynecologist recently working as a researcher in New York. Dr.
Bermuda, previously sitting at his desk gazing at his laptop, turned to face me
instead.
(Oh no, Bermuda-sensei is going to reprimand me severely for my tardiness!)
"Konichiwaaaa!"
Dr. Bermuda had a smile on his face. (He knows I am late, he should be angry!
Aren't I going to be punished?? What kind of twisted game is this?!)
"Dr. Bermuda....I am very late...."
"Oh really? Were you out late with your girlfriend? Good! Daijoubu!"
. . .
"No sensei...my girlfriend could not see me last night...I went to eat alone instead. I woke up very late this morning with a headache and still
wearing all my clothes from yesterday --- wait, aren't you angry? I'm in
trouble right?"
"Daijoubu," Sensei replied, "Why should you be? I woke up in my
clothes many times. Once, when I was a resident, I woke up in a suit. Except I
wasn't wearing any pants."
. . .
"Sensei....??? "
"That is all ahead of you Domi! You will also be a resident!"
. . .
I couldn't remember anything from the previous night when I woke up that
morning, but suddenly, as I spoke to Bermuda-sensei, my memory returned to me.
"Sensei, I was very bored last night because my girlfriend couldn't see
me. So I went to eat tempura."
Next door to the tempura shop, I noticed some kind of bar.
Innocently, I walked in for an after-dinner drink following my meal.
I don't remember walking out.
-----
(This bar is crowded with Englishmen. This must be where foreign businessmen
from London come for fish-and-chips and ale after long hours in Manhattan
meetings.)
"What can I get for you love?" asked the pretty English girl tending
the bar. I always liked that about English women, they often address people by
the word "love". Its a funny thing. It makes you feel kind of
special.
Until, they address ten other customers the exact same way - then it kind of
wears out its novelty.
"Just one beer please, make it a Hoegaarden,"
(Okay, one beer, then its off for the subway!)
I finish my beer quickly and put it down. Ready to leave!
"Hold on young man. What are you drinking?"
A heavy, elderly gentleman from the other side of the bar was addressing me in
a London accent. A collection of younger businessmen surrounded him. They
listened carefully to every word.
The man looked conspicuously like Winston Churchill, he was round, older, bald,
and even dressed the same way. The way he spoke was through a type of
muttering, breathy and interrupted, and he quite resembled the Churchill
impersonator from Quentin Tarantino's movie.
"You should try that drink, young man."
He motioned towards a bottle set on the topmost shelf behind the bar.
"Bartender, poor this young man a drink. This is the best liquor in the
bar, young man. Please enjoy it."
Who was I to disobey a world leader?
Several drinks later, I must have left the bar. But I don't remember it.
-----
"So, you went to eat tempura?"
"Yes sensei. Tempura."
. . .
"I have something for you," Bermuda-sensei said with a smirk.
Bermuda-sensei pointed towards a little piece of paper lying on my laptop.
There were two words written on it.
"This one is your username," Bermuda sensei said as he pointed to one
little word, "and this one is your password."
"Sensei, what is this?"
"The login to your blog."
"My....blog?"
"Yes. Blog."
. . .
Am I still drunk?