Japanese Door Code

Well, I never! What a bunch of morons! This ghost is taking his leave, and might I add, gladly so! What a massive house, muttering, grumbling, clearly crime pays if they can afford a mansion like this. I wonder which of these doors leads out? Muttering, grumbling, this looks promising, a sliding door left slightly ajar.  

Now would be a good time to stop and reflect on why these cultural clashes keep happening to me. Could it be that maybe the problem is me, and not always the others? Should I try to behave in an acceptable way? Try to act like the locals?  

Very well then.  

I shall begin my integration into the local population by opening this sliding door the Japanese way. That is to say, I cannot simply yank the door open like a Westerner; I must be refined, in the style of the Japanese tea ceremonies, and open the door with respect for tradition. I recall reading instructions once on how such a sliding door should be opened in three movements. Let’s see.

 
First, one lowers oneself onto one's knees, like so. Oh boy, oh dear me, my joints are creaking! But I made it down anyway. Next, the sliding door is opened. The right hand is placed below the door handle. Or was it the left hand? In any case, one slides the door open carefully a few centimeters... nnnnghh, it’s badly stuck! I’ll yank it with both hands, using my legs for leverage against the adjacent wall... There, it opened a bit, but what was that sound?

Next, the hand is moved down the door frame, leaving the arm at a 45-degree angle. Or was it a 145-degree angle? Either way, the door is opened first with one hand, then the other, while the free hand is placed elegantly on one's own lap to wait its turn. I’m getting all tied up in knots here – nnnnnghh – they really ought to oil these blasted doors! I have to push with both hands. Whoops, a huge hole appeared right in the middle of the door. Honestly, making doors out of paper… Now there’s an author-sized gap in the sliding door.

Now I should elegantly pull myself into the next room in a kneeling position, but my legs are so cramped it’s not happening. I think I’ll just crawl forward on all fours. Now the hem of my robe is caught in the sliding door. I’ll jerk it free – oh no! The door came off its tracks and is starting to fall on me! I’ll do a somersault into the next room – there! I survived, but the sliding door crashed onto the floor behind me and shattered into pieces. I don’t believe there was any mention of this in the manual I read. But I succeeded, nonetheless, in opening the sliding door like a native-born Japanese person.

It seems that I managed to heave myself into the yakuza members' breakroom. There they sit, drinking tea. I’m leaving as soon as the feeling returns to my limbs. While waiting for that, I’ll ponder new book topics, such as a manual on how to really open a sliding door without it taking years off your lifelessness! I’ll just stretch out here on the floor for a moment to get the blood flowing…

What are you all staring at? Never seen an author at work?


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