Japanese Hell…… Emails and Six Packs

I had the chance to sit in the Toronto Airport today. For an extremely long time.  I think Africa has finally gotten me to the place where waiting is not as stressful anymore.

Most of the Airport staff  walking by were speaking a language other than english between themselves.
Flights to about 20 different nations went from the gates around me. From Saudi Arabia, to Sri-Lanka.

You overhear many interesting conversations in an airport. I suppose people figure that a transiting stranger you probably will see again, who will be on the other side of the globe in a few hours, is not so risky,  if they are in the “know” of some personal life details?

I was sitting at a charging dock and two Japanese ladies sitting not so distantly opposite of me, across the narrow counter, were chatting quite animatedly. They did not seem to notice i was there. (When you are 49, fat, balding, and not so handsome, this occurs quite often.)  They drifted back and forth, mid-sentence, between Japanese and English, but i was given enough pieces of the puzzle to decipher the picture.

One was telling the other how she copied all her husbands emails and sent them to his girlfriend to let her know she found out that she was after her husband.

Obviously she knows the encroaching lioness.
She said, “I’m so pissed right now.”

It was highly evident to both her friend, and me, that she really was, and rightfully so.

Also met a lovely islander on her way to Ottawa for an IT meeting with the government. She represents an IT company on the island.

Anyway, funny how being immersed in a context where one understands little of what is spoken around you, and somewhere along the line it became your new normal. Even more, this new linguistic reality causes you no stress whatsoever.

When did that switch flip?

Goes to show that, regardless of our ethnicity, or language, we are much the same.

An Indian man behind me just sat down, and began crying rather deeply over the phone conversation he was having. What else could it be but an affected relationship…. a death, a disappointment, a disaster, a dream gone out the window? You don’t  cry from the root of your soul over a broken furnace.  

Start dividing your love allegiance with another pretty thing, or a sexy six pack, and it makes no difference if she/he is Japanese, Indian, or Saudi Arabian, some serious hell is going to come.

Relationships are the same everywhere, and they matter. it is clear we all have our own joys, and burdens.

Let’s live in this awareness.

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