* This essay column is written by a longtime foreign resident of Japan.

Muster was at 15:45 followed by inspection, equipment check and briefing, with jump-off timed for 16:00. Our objective was the no man's land on the Sakura-josui border.

I arrived early, I was nervous. I was a rookie; a last-minute, last-resort replacement, but this was my first official tour of duty with the PTA, my first overseas deployment in the postwar era. I'd volunteered many times before but hadn't made the cut. I attend fairs, concerts, sports events, ceremonies, class observations at my son's elementary school to show my enthusiasm, but before the PTA patrol the closest my existence had come to being recognized was when I was chosen to be third reserve sausage griller at a gaku-do fall fair. I think I was blackballed then because I suggested serving the sausages in buns a la hot dogs.

At the briefing my wife told me that my mission -- should you choose to accept it, Robert -- was to patrol the streets of Akazutsumi looking for anything or anyone suspicious and checking to see that children were not doing anything they shouldn't be doing, i.e. being children.

Suspicious? How about a foreigner wearing a watch cap, sunglasses and a bright yellow sash? Surely that was enough to get the neighborhood curtains twitching. I looked like a demented ekiden runner.

I was disappointed with the "uniform." As a crime fighter I expected something more. The tights of Spider-Man and Capt. America would have been too much of a stretch, but certainly perhaps something more macho, like the T-shirts, windbreakers and boots of the Guardian Angels. And where were the raspberry berets -- you know the kind you find at the secondhand store?

But mustn't complain.

So "armed" with my yellow tasuki, I fell in a few steps behind my wife and headed out into Akazutsumi's mean streets. I dare anyone to say that I don't know the pecking order in Japan. Imagine a role reversal for Emperor Akihito and Empress Michiko out pressing the flesh during one of their official engagements, and you'll get the idea. I can assure you that it was deference and not a desire on my part to let my wife confront any suspicious characters first that had me insisting that she took point.

Our first, and only, confrontation came less than a klik from base, just around the corner from our house, when an old gentleman stopped us and asked who we were campaigning for. He was very enthusiastic and ready to vote for us there and then, join our movement, fall in with our march or buy anything we had to sell. My wife gently explained that we were in fact the Akazutsumi Shogaku Parent Teachers Association Neighborhood Patrol and not a campaign.

Given the opportunity I would have pointed out that we were not wearing the obligatory white gloves for a campaign, but I was ushered away before I could get into trouble.

As hard as we looked, we couldn't find anything or anyone suspicious and our 40-minute patrol passed without incident. The streets were strangely quiet. Akazutsumi 5-chome was like a ghost town. Perhaps the word had got around that a foreigner was on patrol and as everyone knows, we are very unpredictable. Maybe they'd even heard that I was packing some heat, although I'd made sure that the kairo (hot pads) were tucked well out of sight -- even crime fighters feel the cold in January. Or it was probably just a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

After we returned to base and filed our report -- yes, you have to fill out a report -- I began to think about my next mission. I have my heart set on pedestrian crossing warden. But that's a step up in the world because for that you get a yellow sash and a yellow flag.

I'd welcome any comments or opinions, in Japanese or English, about my column. You can write or fax me at The Weekly, or e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: Feb. 21, 2004
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