I received a dubious compliment the other day: “I like your blogs the best when they’re about nothing, just you sitting around wasting time. First of all, that never happens.Secondly, was this person implying that my blogs don’t perform a vitally instructive public service? Did he miss my foolproof guide on how to be theultimate relieving teacher or how not to use the computer at school?
I recently had a mind numbing experience that combines doing nothing with a positive outcome. In some circles of Tartarus it is known as ‘converting your foreign drivers licence to a Japanese one.’ This is a trick. That makes it sound like a simple act, like you merely show someone one licence and they give you another licence with more Japanese on it. What it should be called is ‘waiting in a line until your will to live is gone.’
Please use these notes I compiled about the experience as guidelines to getting your own licence transferred or wasting six hours of your life. Whichever you would prefer.
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| My impression of police life before licence change. |
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| My impression of police life after licence change. |
But it makes for the perfect blog! Read it!
Note: I wrote this blog in the style of Rorschach from Alan Moore’s Watchmen, partly because – and I’m sorry if I’m spoiling the ending here – the ordeal of changing my licence mentally unhinged me and partly because what do you care?! I do what I want!
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| I do what I want. |
8:45 Arrive at Akashi Police Station. Must attain Japanese Drivers Licence. Took a number (#3).
9:30 Foreigners licencing department opens. For some reason, about 15 Japanese people rush the door and are seen first before hitting numbered folk like self.
9:50 Number 1 enters office. Notice he is Jehovah’s Witness, so probably only needs bicycle licence. Also note that licence is not necessary to ride Bicycle in Japan. Am confused.
10:25 Number 1 is still in office. Can only assume he is trying to convert licencing officer. Too scared to peek in door lest I too am converted. However, office is only open from 9:30 until 10:30. Begin to panic.
10:29 Notice piece of paper taped to bottom of sign in waiting area. Paper says if you took number between 9:30 and 10:30 they will stay open to see you. Consider taking another number just in case. Don’t.
10:33 Number 1 finally leaves. (On yer bike)
10:34 Number 2 enters.
10:45 Recognise that I have wasted two hours of my life.
10:50 Number 3 is called. Rejoice! Ask if number 4 can come too. (Number 4 is Tran. Read more about our adventures here.)
10:52 Interview about bizarre details irrelevant to driving begins. Interviewer shows intense interest in travel history. Writes details on piece of scrap paper, in pencil (for filing?) Appears to be determining probability we are spies. Frequently confuses Australia and New Zealand. Asks me to recall score on written driving test sat 13 years ago. Seems satisfied by answer I made up. (I hypothetically did really well.)
11:30 Eye Test. Pass easily, despite insistence that ‘green’ light was blue.
11:50 Interview is complete. Interviewer returns Tran’s passport to me, my passport to Tran. Explains next step: wait until 1:00. Fantastic.
11:55 Stand at door and wait for #5 to thank us for doing two numbers at once. #5 is an asshole.
12:00 Basement cafeteria. Counter lady mishears request for almond cake as order for two bowls of ramen. Counter lady doesn’t understand garbled Japanese. What is her angle? Observe ratio of people eating to people studying Japanese road code while sleeping. Ratio is 1:4.
1:00 Large group, maybe 100 people listen to man explain how to complete form interviewer already completed for us. Consider killing spree culminating in explosive murder suicide. Realise that would mean last 5 hours on Earth wasted. Lose feeling in butt.
1:30 Organised into numerical order to have license photos taken. Foreigners come last. Because they love waiting.
2:10 Have photo taken. Look like rapist. Or butcher. Look like rapist butcher. Don’t know Japanese for “any chance of a do over?” Sigh inwardly.
2:30 All line up to receive new license. Choose wrong line. Embarrassed. Fourth to receive new licence in my actual line. Abandon Tran to run to bus stop and ensure space on first bus back to railway. Tran catches up. Can’t blame me; hate waiting.
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| I have seen the city's true face. It is boring. |
