T he center of the little monitor — I'd guess about 20 cm from the looks of it — flashed the word "Yokoso" (welcome). Its colored border was festooned with a collage of images near and dear to visiting tourists' hearts: "torii" gates, the shinkansen, Zen gardens, Mount Fuji . . .
"Please place your fingers on the pad," ordered the immigration officer from behind the counter.
Before I relate more sordid details, let's begin at the beginning. Having heard much emotional debate on the new fingerprinting system, I decided that I would leave and re-enter Japan for the express purpose of subjecting myself to this supposed indignity, and then deal with it in the most exhibitionistic manner possible: the article you are now reading.