Baye McNeil - Loco in Yokohama

Published by: Hunterfly Road Publishing

604 Macdonough Street, Brooklyn, New York 11233

718-701-8241

Copyright Baye McNeil, 2013

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-0615885117

Original Cover Art by J.J. McCullough

Book Design by Miki Hayashi

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

For more information on book or author go to: www.locoinyokohama.com

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To Yokohama,

my home away from home, be it ever so humble...

And to Mrs. Betty

for reminding me how to love

S pring break was no vacation.

Almost every day of it found me at an internet cafe writing, editing, and revising the book youre about to read. And, after months of false starts and trial and error, Id finally figured out the central theme and general tone, and was getting to a point where I felt comfortable announcing publicly that I was in the homestretch. An autumn release was looking very promising.

But then there was the question of how to introduce this work. On that front, I was stumped.

Years of writing have granted me a bit of faith in the process, though, so I dont panic as much as I used to. I no longer think of it as a crisis and, above all, I refrain from getting all dramatic and attaching debilitating labels like writers block to it. Ive come to believe that if one remains open to the possibilities, that inspiration, moments of clarity, and occasionally even brilliancewhat I call the musewill come. She (and, yes, the muse is a she to me) often appears when I least expect her, at inconvenient times and from unexpected directions, but I count my blessings that she comes at all.

And this time was no different.

It would have been nice if she had arrived during my spring vacation when Id set aside the time to entertain her, take her on a guided tour and show her the sights. But standing there in the terminal waiting, as ho-hum and mediocrity sauntered by, sometimes winking at me and even showing a little leg, I had to accept the fact that shell come when shes good and damn ready. This time around she actually waited until after my vacation had ended to show up at my front door in the middle of the night, rousing me from a fitful slumber, and saying, Dont act like you aint glad to see me. Just give me some love!

And I didplenty of it.

Theres nothing more arousing than when the muse makes an appearance.

* * * * *

Here in Japan, the new school year begins after the spring break, unlike back in the U.S. where it begins in autumn. It took a while for this concept to grow on me , pun intended , being that thats how this practice won me over. The idea of beginning a new year while new life is springing up all over the place just works for me now. Those cherry blossoms that Japan is famous for are still flourishing at the start of each semester, allowing the kids to have their class photos taken beneath a splash of pink petals in bloom, the very portrait of promise. Theres something felicitous about that scenario.

I arrived at my school at about 8:30, and it was already bustling with activity, from both students and staff. Though it was my first day back, it was hardly theirs. The Japanese teachers in a public junior high school dont really have much of a spring vacation. Whether the students are there or not, the teachers must show up and make whatever preparations go into the new school year. Since Im neither a direct employee of the school nor of the Board of Education here in Yokohama, but rather a contractor employed by a middlemanwhich I will refer to as The Company from this point onand not required to participate in said preparations, I generally return from spring holiday to a semester already underway.

There were several new faces in the office. A fact I noticed as soon as I opened the door. First among them was the vice-principal, seated at the traditional VP desk nearest the door. He started at my entrance and sprung from his seat. I slid the door closed behind me and grinned as I made my way towards him.

You must be Loco-sensei! he said in Japanese.

I dusted off my Japanese, filthy from almost two weeks of disuse, and replied, Yes, I am. And, you must be the new vice-principal?