Semester long dream nears end
Brendan McNamara
Issue date: 4/24/09 Section: Opinion
My name is Brendan McNamara, and I love dreams. This entire trip has been like one big dream. But, as often is the case with dreaming, if you aren't careful, your dreams can suddenly become quite strange.
If I learned one thing from Asia, it's that being white can actually be considered exotic. Japanese people will pull you off to the side in order to get a picture with you. Being in Japan before, and desperately wanting a picture with skirt wearing school girls, I figured that getting one would be a lay up, until I realized a flaw in my plan: other white people. Semester at Sea was full of them. I would no longer be the unique snowflake. I had to one- up them. If the Japanese wanted a picture with an American, then by God I would give them a picture with an AMERICAN. I would have to wear my cowboy outfit.
Now, as my fellow Texans may know, I am no cowboy. I am a shallow wannabe cowboy. But the Japanese don't know this. And that's all I need. I wore a black cowboy hat, snake skin boots, a snake skin belt, faded jeans and a western style graphic tee. I was going to either look like a cowboy or a homosexual. I figured either would get me a picture.
For once in my life I was right. Within hours I had school girls fawning over me and begging for pictures. This extended to old people and businessmen as well. Each picture is an example of jarring culture contrast. A Tokyo Cowboy. You just don't see that.
That night my friends and I figured that we should celebrate my photographic success by going out clubbing. We walked into this one bar where I heard a guy hollering about my cowboy outfit. I talked to him and found out that he was the bartender, and he was from San Antonio. He missed being able to dress like a cowboy. I told him that the highway construction wasn't done yet. He wasn't surprised. I asked for a jager bomb. He got a beer glass and filled it to the top with jager and handed it to me. Love that ex-pat bonding. I chugged the glass, thanked him, and headed out. An hour later I stopped remembering things.
If I learned one thing from Asia, it's that being white can actually be considered exotic. Japanese people will pull you off to the side in order to get a picture with you. Being in Japan before, and desperately wanting a picture with skirt wearing school girls, I figured that getting one would be a lay up, until I realized a flaw in my plan: other white people. Semester at Sea was full of them. I would no longer be the unique snowflake. I had to one- up them. If the Japanese wanted a picture with an American, then by God I would give them a picture with an AMERICAN. I would have to wear my cowboy outfit.
Now, as my fellow Texans may know, I am no cowboy. I am a shallow wannabe cowboy. But the Japanese don't know this. And that's all I need. I wore a black cowboy hat, snake skin boots, a snake skin belt, faded jeans and a western style graphic tee. I was going to either look like a cowboy or a homosexual. I figured either would get me a picture.
For once in my life I was right. Within hours I had school girls fawning over me and begging for pictures. This extended to old people and businessmen as well. Each picture is an example of jarring culture contrast. A Tokyo Cowboy. You just don't see that.
That night my friends and I figured that we should celebrate my photographic success by going out clubbing. We walked into this one bar where I heard a guy hollering about my cowboy outfit. I talked to him and found out that he was the bartender, and he was from San Antonio. He missed being able to dress like a cowboy. I told him that the highway construction wasn't done yet. He wasn't surprised. I asked for a jager bomb. He got a beer glass and filled it to the top with jager and handed it to me. Love that ex-pat bonding. I chugged the glass, thanked him, and headed out. An hour later I stopped remembering things.
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