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I sometimes fantasize about having a chance encounter with a congregation of slant eyes who coincidentally need one more player for their table. I awkwardly introduce myself with my duolingo Japanese, and explain that I haven't played in person before. The pretty young woman, still above legal age, shyly breaks eye contact with me before fiddling with some tiles. She is obviously entranced by my American mannerisms, plain, yet somehow refined in their own peculiar manner. Her mother laughs and smiles, but I can see that she disapproves. Luckily for her, I am far too racist to impregnate her daughter. The father, or perhaps the brother in other variations of this daydream, urges everyone to start the game. I can't believe my haipai. I'll be able to get into riichi for a half flush before the first row of discards. As the round progresses, I draw even more tiles for my suit. I take the gamble and discard my honours. I'm almost ready to call riichi for a full flush. Or was I already ready? I don't know how many wait tiles I have. I've been thinking for 10 seconds. I can already see myself chomboing and ruining this family's game. 15 seconds have passed and the awkwardness is now palpable. My gaijin body begins to sweat and I become painfully aware of my potential body odour. I feel physically ill, more so in the now horrible day dream, but also in my actual body.
It's never been more over than before.
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