We were supposed to get Internet today. “Supposed” being the
operative word. I joked with Gordon yesterday that I wasn’t going to let the
NTT (Internet/phone company) person leave until we had wireless set up and
until I went on both of our computers and confirmed that it worked. If they
wanted to leave for whatever reason before the job was finished I was going to
lock both locks on the door, put the chain on the door, physically block it
with my body and politely ask if they would like lunch because they weren’t
leaving anytime soon.
It started off well enough. The NTT guy came a little before
9 am so he was actually a little early. I was ecstatic. I got up early with
Gordon (today was his first day teaching at the junior high school!) and got
dressed and got everything ready, such as turning on the computers, so
everything would go smoothly (I’ve obviously learned from past experiences).
So, the NTT guy is setting the modem up and occasionally he typed away
furiously on his cell phone and translated a phrase into English. At first he
wanted the “apartmento name” which I came to find out meant, “apartment
address” and then he wanted to know where “construction of modem” was which
means, “where do I plug in the modem”. Besides our slow communication,
everything was going fine.
So, I’m sitting there reading "The Girl Who
Played With Fire" on Gordon's Kindle (the fourth book I've read since I arrived in Japan...because we don’t have Internet) when NTT guy says he needs another sheet of
paper and points to the NTT papers on the table that Gordon and I received a
while back. He says a sheet is missing. I look around for another sheet. I go
upstairs and shuffle through a stack of papers all the while knowing those are
all the papers pertaining to the Internet that we have. I break the news to him
that I don’t have the paper, not worrying because a sheet of paper can’t be
necessary to hook up Internet, its all wires and cords as far as I’m concerned.
He signals that he understood what I said and types away at
his phone and shows me these words in this order: “business” and “terminated”.
WHAT? I give him a quizzical look. He says, “tomorrow” and then types “English
speaker capable”.
At this point I’m beginning to panic and in my head I’m
thinking, “Don’t let him leave the apartment, Emily”. I also start replaying
the abduction scene in my head. Then I say, “kyo?” (“today”) as in “you’ll come
back today?” He gives me a shrug and smiles and points to the telephone and
says, “English speaker”. Ok, an English speaker is going to call, that’s great,
but you’re missing the point. I repeat myself, but with a different inflection,
“kyo!” as in “Today! I’m going to get Internet!” He’s not amused. I point to
the modem and say “internet” and give the thumbs up and smile hopefully. He
responds with a gesture I dread. He lifts up his arms and crosses them in front
of him to form a big X, which in Japan is the universal symbol for “no” or in
my case “you’re out of luck”.
Now I’m feeling frantic and desperate. This guy is my only
chance to connect with the outside world. My face immediately drops and I say
in a pathetic voice, “no Internet?” I try and look as depressed as possible,
partly because I really am, and partly because, if I know one thing its that
body language says a whole lot more than words. He says, “tomorrow” and starts
packing his things. I had to suppress the impulse to run to the door and lock
it. There was obviously nothing left to do. He exchanged a couple pleasantries
as he walked out the door while I eyed the broom next to the door thinking that
I might still have a chance to knock him over the head once and drag him back
inside. As soon as he left and I shut the door, I started to bawl my eyes out.
I had been waiting for this day in anticipation and was disappointed. I was
looking forward to possibly talking to my friends and family and could imagine
them sitting at their computers at home waiting for some signal from me.
Well,
that wasn’t going to happen and after about half an hour and half a box of
tissues later I decided to cheer myself up by brewing a cup of coffee (what the
heck, I went ahead and brewed two) and made some buttered toast. If the
Internet wasn’t going to satisfy my needs then coffee and bread would have to
do. I started to feel a little better as I scooped the coffee and put the slice
of bread in the toaster oven when I heard our mail slot open and shut. I went
to the door and picked up a letter on the floor. It was a letter from my Papa
(grandma). I immediately felt the tears welling up in my eyes and started
bawling. As if that wasn’t bad enough, to make matters worse I open the letter
and on the front of the card, in big letters is the word, “KITTIES!” with cute
cartoon pictures of cats. I continued to cry and then laughed and smiled all at
the same time. Who doesn’t like kitties?! Needless-to-say, I started to feel a
whole lot better and at least for the moment, snail mail seems far superior to
the Internet.
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| My alternative to the Internet. |
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