They Have Already Stopped

My friend had sent me a photo of the place he’d gotten wireless SIM card from.   I’d been planning on getting one anyway.  In the past I’d bought a portable wireless device that that acted as a wireless hot spot.  Huawei offered devices.  The staff were usually all Chinese people who after the formalities of speaking a bit of Japanese were willing to switch into Chinese and rent you one of their devices.  These things ran out of power quickly, they were bulky and it was one more device you needed to bring with you, so I was willing to try the SIM card and hd goo luck with one last week in Taiwan.

I found the place where all the booths were located but as the woman who directed me suggested, they were all closed.  A lone guy sat at one booth.  “Sorry.  We are closed.”  None of the SIM card booths were available. And the Huawei-backed device folks were all shut as well.  I reckoned I would have to find one the next day down in the city.  If I was lucky.  Then I spied a machine one could be used to simply purchase a card to insert in one’s phone. I would later wish I hadn’t.

The card was $30 for a week’s worth of unlimited data.  As my friend had warned me there’d be no voice services, which seemed silly in a Japanese sort of way, but who cares? I could make VoIP calls instead.  Without much more thought I swiped my card and got the SIM and had it all ready to put in my phone . But, as the sign said, I must forget to register the card.    And try as I might the scanner on the machine was in operative.  I entered the info manually.  The device code required a two letter code and a number.  My letters were not among the two choices one could chose from.  I chose one of the two and proceeded.  Painstakingly typing my name, and my passport and my birthday and the serial number into their clunky interface. At the end I was told the serial number and the product numbers didn’t match.  Well, of course they don’t those two letters at the beginning of the product number were wrong.

I tried, of course, with the other letter choice, which didn’t work either.  I tried both combinations one more time each.    I tried to scan my passport and product info.  I grew very, very frustrated.  A hapless guard, who probably should have studied harder in high school, walked by, mid-expletive.  He was thoughtful, kind, attentive and utterly useless.  He shuffled off and returned with a woman from information who was similarly pleasant and clueless.  Having wasted thirty minutes or more on this effort, I finally gave up, but not before trying the phone number that was posted on the machine, which was it turned out, not a working number. 

We’ll, I told the lady, I better get going if I’m going to catch the last Narita express.  The trains will stop running soon.  “They have already stopped running”  She told me with a strained smile.  “No.”  “Yes.  The last train leaves before 10;00PM.”  “You’re in Japan,” I told myself   “It will not bend to you.”   The young information attendant kindly walked me over to place where the busses were and they no longer had any busses to the place I needed to go either.  I’d need to take a two-hour bus to the wrong location and then change for a train, if trains were still running.  I had a call to do in fifteen minutes.  Sitting on a buss I would be compelled into Japanese-style public silence. 

The cab would be very expensive.  And I was literally sick and tired.  The call would have to be done on a roaming charge.  The young lady accompanied me all the way to the cab queue.  I wanted to say “mei ban fa” to her but did not know how to say that in Japanese.  So I thanked her.

Tuesday, 11/28/17