World's Wing Premium 2008 - A Recollecting
On August 12th, 2008, something wonderful happened. I've told this story before to many of you, but considering how much I like telling it, I've probably even told it to some of you twice.
In 2008, I was in Japan studying abroad. Any studying I did was incidental. I was much more excited about my JR Pass that took me from Osaka to Tokyo and Shizuoka and Fukui and a number of indulgent trips from Osaka to Kobe just cos with the Pass I had POWER. Mwahaha.
I stayed with two incredibly sweet host families, saw four Kanjani∞ concerts, had the near-death thrill of Subaru singing to me, and spent nearly every day I had free in Osaka exploring every corner of Namba and Shinsaibashi. Two months of pure joy went by with me skipping about Japan and performing many other physical expressions of merriment.
I'd planned most of that (not Subaru, though, because most of the time he's far more devoted to his ongoing staring contest with the ceiling, so I never plan on making so much as the briefest moment of eye contact with him-that one day he sang at me must've been his sociable moment of the year) so it was the things I didn't plan that stick out to me the most now years later.
One of the best things to happen to me - maybe the best - was on August 12th. I was nearing the end of my trip, with only a week or so to go, so I spent the entire day of the 11th exploring Osaka and committing every detail to memory. This is the okonomiyaki shop I ate at with my friends, this is the bridge I'm very possibly in love with, this is the giant crab that dances - and as I passed through the covered arcade in Namba, I happened to look into a side street where a giant crowd of girls was gathered.
My first thought was, Gotta be Johnny's-related, and I headed in their direction. I paused near the wall opposite the crowd, trying to summon up enough Japanese to make the a polite variation on the sentence "Whatcha dooooin?" When I had something workable, I walked up to a Japanese girl who'd been eyeing me with amusement and asked her, 何が待ってる？ or something equally mangled and she said, "Imai Tsubasa."
I think I swallowed my brain.
I had a tiny neurological episode that resulted in a facial expression of absolute shock, and then I said, "I AM A BIG FAN OF IMAI TSUBASA," and she recoiled a bit in surprise. "Really? You know him?" she asked. I rattled off a few things to prove it - Samurai and 夢物語 and Takki - and she laughed.
I had had no idea that Tsubasa's play World Wing was taking place in Osaka then. And, even better, there would be a show the following day as well. :D
I went back to my hotel and did some basic reconnaissance - there were tickets available, but getting them would be a pain in the neck. None of the resale shops had seemed to have any tickets - that kind of purchase is much more easily accomplished in Tokyo - and my Japanese was barely good enough to ask coherent questions about things let alone negotiate Yahoo!Auction. Somehow, though, by a miracle I can't even remember, I got a ticket, and I told the seller that I'd meet her the next day in front of the theater to make the ticket exchange.
Buuut it didn't happen. Somehow our wires had gotten crossed, and she wasn't there. I still don't know exactly what went wrong, but it was probably a miscommunication issue on my end. Still, I stood in front of the Shochiku Theater and waited. It'll sound strange to some, but even without a ticket, just standing there in front of the theater where Tsubasa would be performing felt exciting. I had had months of building suspense leading up to seeing Kanjani live, but in that time I'd never thought I could see Takki or Tsubasa, too. Just the World Wing Premium banner on display made me smile whenever I looked at it.
Finally, the front doors opened, and the fans waiting to be let in formed a line in front of the staff woman taking tickets. I kept a lookout for the Yahoo!Auction girl, but no one seemed to be paying me any attention beyond a curious look or two. I didn't seem to be approaching the theater, so it must have looked like I was waiting for a friend or that I was just looking at the spectacle of fans waiting for a show.
At one point, the staff woman taking tickets stopped the line so she could run down the steps and pick up a bit of litter. She dashed back up the steps, threw it out, and resumed taking tickets. That one small gesture totally floored me, and then I started to notice for the thousandth time just how clean the country was. And that made me smile, too.
The crowd thinned out quickly. One by one, the girls standing alone were joined by friends running and apologizing for arriving late. I wondered if the Yahoo!Auction girl was late, too. Finally, there were only a handful of people left outside the theater. I thought of all the Kanjani concerts I'd seen, the incredible luck of being in Japan to start with, and I started to accept that I wouldn't get to see this show. I was disappointed, but I decided it was exciting enough to have happened on it at all.
Then an older woman smiled at me from near the entry steps, and I smiled back. She had who appeared to be her daughter and granddaughter with her, but they hadn't noticed me. The older woman approached me and I had a momentary panic spasm at the thought of having to dredge up some polite Japanese from the recesses of my brain.
"Hello," she said (in Japanese). "What are you waiting for?"
I told her, "Imai Tsubasa."
Her smile took on an even kinder curve. "Do you have a ticket?" she asked.
I said, "Ah, no, I don't," and shrugged sheepishly, realizing how odd I must've looked rocking on my heels and beaming at the theater without any noticeable intention of going inside.
Then she said, "Would you like one?"
I was sure I'd misheard, misunderstood. There was no woman, even. I had gone quietly and gracefully insane and was, in fact, talking to a tree or a total stranger who hadn't actually said a word to me.
But, on the off chance I had heard her right, I said, "Yes, please!" in English and then, remembering myself, managed a litany of the most grateful and happy and polite Japanese I could manage. She laughed, took out a ticket, and explained that her grandson had gotten a fever that morning and couldn't make the show. She asked for ¥6,500 and I handed it to her in a daze.
I couldn't stop thanking her and she kept laughing, waving off my shock kindly. Then, she and her family went into the theater, and I had a moment to myself to look at the ticket in utter reverence and disbelief.
Then I realized actually seeing the show would only happen if I moved.
The staff woman ripped my ticket with an amused smile and gave me a quiet "おめでとう〜"
The seat was even nice! I was in the middle of the sixteenth row, with a clear view of the stage. Only once I was seated did I drink in every detail of the ticket I'd been given and notice the price. The original price had been ¥7,500. She'd sold it to me for ¥1,000 under that. Stunned, I looked around the theater, hoping to see her and try to give her the other ¥1,000 - I'd been so caught up in surprise and excitement that I hadn't even looked at the price on the ticket, and ¥6,500 had sounded reasonable. Of course, she could have asked for double that and I would have nodded along with the same blithe joy.
I didn't see her or her family anywhere. Weren't they going to sit next to me, since it'd been one of their tickets? Apparently not, as two girls my age took the empty seats next to me. To this day I don't know what the situation had really been - I might've misunderstood her explanation about why they had the extra ticket. Or maybe her grandson had his own ticket? I stood up and looked around, but I couldn't see them at all. Then the showtime chime sounded, and I hurried back to my seat.
World Wing was incredible, and I saw it at a time in my life when I appreciated the mastery that went into its development. I was in the middle of earning my theater degree, and the sheer amount of work and practice and skill put into the show blew me away. I spent the entire show beaming, nearly overwhelmed by how much I loved it.
My smile stayed resiliently fixed to my face until Tsubasa took a break from being amazing to ramble about his love for Spain. With my very basic level Japanese and with Tsubasa's tendency to speak very low and blurry, I didn't understand a rainbow-slapping thing he said. But his voice is very nice, so I shrugged it off and sat back to admire his slideshow of Spain.
My favorite part of the show was the part with the sticks they banged around on the stage. That's my artistic description of what happened.
Before I saw World's Wing, I was already a fan because he's gorgeous and sarcastic and deeply amusing, but after I saw World's Wing I saw this whole other side of him - the hard-working perfectionist always looking deeper into himself to create something incredible. It was on that day, during that show, that I started to admire him, and he became one of my heroes.
It's because of him and Takki that I traveled as much as I did last year. I saw parts of the country I probably wouldn't have seen if they hadn't stopped there on tour. I have incredibly fond memories of walking through Tokushima with one of my best friends, following the map on my phone to the letter but still convinced we were going to get abducted by a ghost wandering the empty streets of the tiny town. Through T&T I've gotten to hang out with such beautifully kind and wonderful people - luin_lote and lovespiral and mii_hazeru and stasya_lj - and even more that I haven't met in person yet. :)
Of all the groups I follow, T&T are the two I feel most grateful towards. They've given me such joy and precious friendships and unparalleled memories. Even in my darkest moments, their music and their laughter and their hard work made things feel brighter. They're not just excellent performers, they're kind people and my role models. I want to be as generous a person as Takki, and as devoted a person as Tsubasa, and as genuine as both of them.
I like them a lot, let's say. :D
