Last week we looked into the dire social ramifications of having dipped too deeply into the barrel of whatever it is you are drinking. This week – in Part Two of the Holiday Special on Drinking – we will talk about how your drinking might reflect on you personally. Yes, your image is important, especially during the holiday season when you experience a lot of stress from being with in-laws and other people you try to avoid most of the year.
To bring this rather boring point to life, let me relate another story from my past experience. Many years ago (don't ask) I lived in Nara but worked in Osaka, a 90-minute commute one way. My job was in the evening, so I traveled back home on the Kintetsu line with a lot of "salarymen" who were also wrapping up their day, often with a good deal of booze under their belts.
I became an expert at divining which of the boarding salarymen would lose their dinners in the railway car, and learned to move away as quickly as possible, even if I already had a seat. Inevitably one of them would board, spot me sitting there, and filled with "courage", he would come to the unavoidable conclusion that THIS would be the perfect opportunity to practice that English he had learned in school. So he would come around and hang on the strap over me and say things like, "Mmfmfm... bllrnotott .... kormrmtffmlmf," as he hung on the strap and swayed back and forth with the movement of the train. Despite this sparkling conversation, my concerns about being covered in "courage" and the noodles the salaryman had had for dinner, prompted me to give him my seat and move away.
The train left Namba, a central Osaka station, made one more stop in the city at Nipponbashi, and then run long to the bedroom communities in the outlying areas. The first and biggest of these was Gakuenmae, then Saidaiji then Tenri.
One evening, a salaryman got on. He was clearly drunk, his necktie loose and his suit rumpled. He staggered onto the train in Namba, crossed the car and collapsed onto the floor, leaning against the opposite door.
The doors closed and the train departed. He looked up at everyone and smiled all around.
The train approached the next stop, Nipponbashi.
The train stopped. The doors opened.
He was lucky. The doors opened on the side he got on from, not the side he was leaning against.
He smiled at everyone who got on and even waved at some of the more attractive women (who moved, frowning, to the opposite ends of the car immediately).
From Nipponbashi to the next stop was a long 3o minute run. The car was warm. The rhythm of the rails soon soothed our drunk into a state of soporific stupor.
But soon enough the first of the bedroom community stations came up. The conductor made his announcements, "Gakuenmae, Gakuenmae", and the train pulled into the station.
The doors opened. Most of the riders jostled for the door. The poor drunk, seated across from the opened doors, opened his eyes and saw the name of his station on the sign.
His eyes processed the information and you could see it in his face, "I must get off here!!"
So he tried to get up off the floor. Regrettably, the tails of his suit jacket had spread to the side as he sat down against the train door and in trying to get up, he put his hands on them. He tried to raise himself against his own weight on his jacket.
The look of incomprehension, "Why am I not getting up?!", crossed his face as he strained against his own power.
The doors closed.
The train left his station.
The hapless inebriate slumped down against the opposite door.
The next bedroom stop came up shortly. The conductor once again announced, "Saidaiji, Saidaiji", and the train pulled into the station.
You could see on the helpless salaryman's face the glimmer of recognition, "I can get off here, and go back to my stop!"
A second time, he tried to raise himself off the floor while holding himself down by his suit jacket.
I had to get off, but he was still wrestling with himself when the doors closed behind me.
The next stop was the end of the line. When the conductor walked through the cars, rousing the other drunks, he would help the pitiful salaryman off the train then. Hopefully he would remember where he needed to go.
So... the moral to the story is, when you drink too much, don't wear a suit. You might hold yourself down with your own suit jacket.
It looks silly, and makes a bad impression on in-laws and other people around you.
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Next Sunday is Christmas, so my meaningful and heart-warming, annual Christmas message will be posted on Christmas day, not Monday when you will be hung-over and unable to read.
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