# 94

I was sitting behind the wheel of the almighty Mira when an old guy on a bike was crossing at the lights. He looked my way, stopped and gestured hello. I wasn't sure of the circumstances leading up to the act itself, but I had been in the country long enough to know the extent of Japanese people's politeness. I waved hello back. The old guy's performance became more animated, but I knew that sticking around to see the walking against the wind portion simply wouldn't do. I can't stand the classics. Then a particular action caught my eye: I transformed from a dog that was being shown a card trick without rational explanation to a dog that was shown a cow's thigh, blood still dripping from its recent detachment from the rest of the body. He pretended to throw an object my way.

I thought until my brain went "click."

It was the 73 year-old left fielder from my baseball team. B-I-N-G-O.

Now, if I know my Japanese body language well enough, then I've correctly deduced that the baseball season won't start this Monday as scheduled. It may or may not be right as the imminent rain the following week.

Five weeks to go. Cross those fingers and bring on the rubber balls.