The Pitfalls of Good Citizenry

Has a good deed ever blown up in your face? Well, I guess one didn't blow up in mine today, but nonetheless I did have one kind of go off like a stink bomb in my hand. In my backpack, to be more precise. Every day I stare at this sign posted to the two bus stops I sit at waiting to be ferried from home to school and back again, and it says, essentially, "please help keep our bus stops clean! cleanliness comes from individual effort!" or, that last part in japanese, "mana ha hitori hitori no kimochi kara." Alright, yeah, that sounds good, I'm down with being a part of a cooperative community, let's do it. So this afternoon, I rushed out to my bus stop a few minutes later than usual, looking down the street to see if I can see the bus yet. Not quite, so I'm about to sit down on the bench and relax for a minute when I spot a smashed beer can shoved up against the little cement wall behind the bench. Yes, "mana ha hitori hitori no kimachi kara," now it's my opportunity to participate in this great community beatification project I read about every day. So, wondering which one of my passed out students' hands this semi-crushed up can fell out of this weekend, I bent over to pick it up and pop it in my backpack for momentary safekeeping. Oh fuck, this either belonged to Mi-chan or wounded soldiers aren't really a big problem amongst Japanese middle schoolers (or, more likely, bums) because there was a fair amount of beer in the can and as soon as I picked it up it fucking spilled all over me. Oh crap. Now what. Stealing a glance down the road, I see that the bus is almost upon me and there's little to do except try to pour the excess beer out of the can, shove it hastily in my backpack, and get on the bus, hoping desperately that I haven't been wetted to the point that I smell like the resident wino as opposed to the resident speaker of English. So I did, and nonchalantly pulling the ticket that keeps track of your fair from the dispenser, began my effort to look like I was innocent of any contact with alcohol. I mean, of course I was innocent in the sense that I was just trying to keep the bus stop clean, but I certainly had alcohol on my hands, and I could think of no easy way to briefly and satisfactorily explain that to affronted Japanese folks aboard a bus. I sat down, and everything seemed fine. Then the lady in front of me looked back with disdain on her face, and about five minutes later vacated her spacious window seat for an aisle seat next to another woman a row up. And it's not like they were just friends because they didn't talk. I smelled my hands. Yes, alcohol. My bag. Not too bad really. Then we passed the private all girls school, and like 50 12 year old-girls got on. Like usual. I huddled closer in my seat, hoping that by becoming as small as possible I could hide my hoppy scent, and in so doing keep my job. Sadly this is where the story ends because I quickly got off without further incident, but I'll actually be pretty surprised if I don't have to answer some awkward questions tomorrow at work. Old ladies are fucking nosy in this country, especially when it comes to dastardly, foreign alcoholics who are supposedly teaching their kids English. "Mana wa hitorihitori no kimochikara." Ne!