The American President passed through Japan recently. Pretty much all I saw of his short stay was an army of police officers at every exit of every station for a week, and a few clips of him and the Prime Minister speaking on TV. I waited. I made sure my phone was fully charged. I even took it off manner-mode just to be certain, no matter where I was or what I was doing, I would get the call. But the time slipped by, and he was off to his next stop. He didn't call, and I'm trying not to take it personally. But I did kind of hope he would at least check in. After all he is a fellow American, and I, being somewhat knowledgeable about Tokyo, could have recommended some great places. We could, maybe even, go out for a beer or something. But meh... I get it. He is busy. No problem. I had other stuff to do anyway. Same deal with previous administrations. Apparently too much on the docket for little ol' me.
The honestly awkward part, however, is when the local Japanese ask me... "Obama is visiting you know?" Yes! Of course I know. But I can hear the subtle hint of "Isn't that nice for you, someone from the old country is coming to visit you!" He's not visiting me! In fact I'm fairly sure he doesn't know I'm here. Trust me, I'm painfully aware he didn't call. I make it a point to smile and nod at other foreigners on the street (Yes, I am that guy). I feel a certain camaraderie with fellow Americans, even Canadians. It's probably the same way left handed people feel when they meet and shake their left hands. But, I don't actually have any strong reason to take note of any other foreigner in Japan, even the president for more than a nod. I guess it is a little exciting, in some strange, tangentially connected way. I'm not sure what response the locals are hoping for either. Perhaps, "Actually we went to Harvard at the same time." Or even better "He's my cousin on my father's side." But I've learned to be careful with sarcasm in Japan. A sushi chef in Itabashi Ward has, for 8 years now, believed I am Kevin Costner's younger brother.
His visit reminded me momentarily, if anything, that I am not in America. Bizarrely I do forget sometimes. A phone call to my parents always reminds me how far I am from home. Then again, looking out the frosted winter window on the Yamanote, I forget there is any other place to be. But like everybody on this planet, I'm just getting through the day. In the end, I suppose his visit only makes me wonder one thing. Did he have to do the photo and fingerprint thing at the airport?
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