**NOTICE**
the state of emergency has been moved back from chartruse to magenta. please adjust your calendars accordingly.

so, everything is fine.

the medium short version of the "incident" is that my visa expired, making me little more than an illegal immigrant in japan. i was in a tough spot-turning myself in, proper documentation in hand, and being truthful-i really did simply forget-seemed like a good choice. there are stories, however, of those who did similar things and were "held" for days, (probably not actually being held), interrogated at length (physical abuse is an assumed part of the interrogation process in japan. seriously.) and deported, and, as a kick in the crotch of an already beaten foe, banned from attempted re-entry for the next 10 years. oh, and fined 3 MILLION yen. which, even though it is yen, still amounts to 30 thousand of your earth dollars. which is a lot of money.

all these reasons and more were what was terrifying me as i waited in line, the 7th person of the day. i had weighed the variables, and opted to go in early. on the one hand, any grace that the counter-people might have would still be in long supply, but on the other there was the danger of a bad night's sleep coupled with a bad case of somnambulism, and powerless victims to take out insomniac frustration on. personally, i would fall in the second camp, but the japanese folk are notoriously effecient, so i felt it safe to assume things about the quality of their REM.

i waited until the initial line was as short as possible before i went up to wait in it, mostly because i felt that a little momentum would see to it that the trip to the counter was completed, as i would have less time to lose my nerve. i mean, at least as a fugitive in japan, i would still be in japan, right? once my turn came, i explained with abject and self-flagellatory apologies that the date of expiry had come and gone, and my inattention and inaction to it was my own horrible fault, and what could possibly be done in a situation such as this? the man behind the counter, whose job title was "checker-of-the-documents" reached for a mostly blank lined sheet of paper from a rack behind him, then paused. i had in my posession a letter i had insisted my mission organization write for me, claiming their ownership of me, their responsibility for me, and also positing that i was an upright, steadfast, and generally all-around good guy. they also, i assume (the letter being in very formal japanese, i understood very little) apologized on my behalf in much the same way that i already had. the document checker skimmed my document, and deemed it somehow the equivalent of the empty paper he had pulled out. he told me everything seemed to be in order, and gave me a number. when my number was called, i went up to the lady, explained again, she nodded and took my papers, and passport, checked that all the magic spells were intact, or whatever they do with their technologies, and told me to come back in a few weeks when my visa was done. there was one, only one, thing she did differently with me than with all others who had gone before me:

she gave me a short scolding, and told me not to forget next time.

so, while it was hell on my nerves, with the proper documentation from a reputable organization, it was in fact rather painless. but only because i don't have a phobia of being scolded. if i did, then i just might consider stowing away aboard a russian freighter a viable alternative...