I see him first. The new guy in town. He's just popped out of a convenience store and has turned in my direction. The walkway pinches in and the only way he can avoid me is to freeze in his tracks and spin around. We are destined to pass.

Uh oh. It's that old-timer with the beard. The one who always eyes me. He's eying me now. He's gonna stop and introduce himself. I know it. And I can't get away.

Look at him. It's like he's in a bubble. He's carried his air with him, all the way from New York or Los Angeles or St. Louis or wherever. It's not like he's in Japan at all. He's where he always is. And he expects Japan to adjust to him, not vice-versa.