Roadrage provides a rare glimpse into the world of the Yakuza.
Roadrage is an almost non-existent phenomenon in Japan. Japanese drivers draw upon un-natural reserves of patience as they inch through traffic jams kilometers long. I am unable to do this - I'm either zooming down the middle on my scooter, or banging my head on the steering wheel in frustration. I very rarely see any kind of anger on the roads at all. Actually, I have a memory of accidentally cutting someone off on the road. I looked into therear view mirror expectantly, hoping for some signs of anger or frustration. He looked at me through the mirror indirectly with a look of surprise, and then it seemed he recognised me as a foreigner. He then broke out into a smile, pointed to my car and presumably informed the other people in the car that the car ahead has a "Gaijin on board". I shook my head and drove off. This article however, is about another breed of driver.
One of the very few people that seem to do exactly what they feel like without concern for Japanese social obligation, are the Yakuza. If you put more than one Japanese in a room, it seems to create a social expectancy - each Japanese watches the other Japanese, to make sure that they don't accidentally do something considered unbecoming for a Japanese. This effect seems to multiply the more people are around. There are only a few people who don't give a shit about this omnipotent social pressure - crazy people, foreigners, andYakuza.
I've had some minor encounters with the Yakuza during the time I've been here. Once, I sat across one on a train. This guy was huge, easily twice my size - the kind of guy you normally only see in exaggerated Japanese fight comics. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that must have been tailor made, and he had scars on his face. He seemed as interested in me, as I was in him. We were happened to be on an express train that went for long periods of time with no stops. Both of us from a sense ofcuriousity caught each others eye. For a period of about 8 minutes, we were locked in eye contact. We coolly stared each other down. As I peered into his eyes, I tried to imagine his world. Was he a bodyguard? Some kind of fighter? Was his loyalty with one of the famousYakuza groups? Some kind of freelancer? I can only imagine he was looking at me, trying to likewise get a glimpse into my world. After some time, he broke eye contact, and got off at the next stop with a grace that defied his large frame. However the sense of accomplishment I got from winning thestaredown was defused by the realisation that he could twist my head off using his forefinger and thumb.
Most Yakuza seem to be regarded in a way akin to dangerous animals. Just stay out of their way, don't mess with them, avoid provoking them, and you will be able to co-exist without too many issues. TheYakuza seem to support some sections of Japanese society, and add their own value (and probably dallops of blackmail) which allows them to function without a huge amount of external problems from the police. There seem to be lines drawn in the sand however that both sides respect, and as long as neither side crosses the line,Yakuza and the other side of society functions in an uneasy symbiosis. Every now and again, these lines are blurred, and I was lucky enough to witness such an event.
Myself and some co-workers were sitting at an outside table at a Tullies in a downtown Kamiyacho. We were enjoying the summer heat (read : we were drenched in sweat and wishing we were anywhere else), and having a relaxed conversation. All of a sudden, we heard some brakes screeching. I looked up, and saw that a black Mercedes (a classicYakuza car) was stopped by a truck, which had slammed on its brakes. The truck was reacting to something unexpected on the road, and did an emergency stop. The black Mercedes followed suit. A taxi following behind the black Mercedes wasn't paying quite as much attention to the road as the truck and the Mercedes. The Taxi slammed on it's brakes, narrowly avoiding the black Mercedes. There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone, which was broken by the loud horn of the taxi.
*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*. *WHAAAWHAAAAAAAAAA* *WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
The Taxi driver held the horn down in a frustrated response to the unexpected stop. Silence fell once more.
*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
The Mercedes door flew open. A fat, extremely well dressed man kicked his way out of the car, fumbling furiously with his seat beat. He turned and slammed the door behind him and began storming towards the taxi. The taxi driver immediately shit himself, locked his doors, and wound up his window.
"WHAT THE FUCK, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. YOU THINK YOU'RE TOUGH WITH YOUR HORN? YEAH? YOU THINK YOU'RE HARD? COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN. DONT YOU FUCKING PUT YOUR WINDOW UP," His words rumbled and screamed at the same time as he began hitting the glass with his fist.
The taxi driver put the car into reverse, before realising there was about half a meter of space from the car behind him, and a few inches from the car in front of him. He had no escape. He turned white as he double checked the locks on the door, and began scrambling for a phone to call the police.
"COME ON YOU BIG TOUGH MAN, GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AND FACE ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT." He roared.
Meanwhile, all four of us were sitting about 5 meters away watching the entire scene unfold. It was thoroughly fascinating.
Now, as luck would have it, there was a police station on the other side of the road. Two policemen approached the scene much like the bomb squad approaches a live explosive. The taxi driver looked visibly relieved.
"Uh, *ahem*, excuse me, sir?" The older policemen weakly offered.
"THANK GOD YOU'RE HERE. This human TURD started honking at me, and now he won't come out and face me like a FUCKING MAN. Can you please arrest this asshole immediately." The fat man exclaimed to the policemen. The policemen gulped and looked at each other. The taxi driver began turning white again, realising the police were of no help at all.
"Well... I'm sure you've been greatly troubled by this incident, sir," one policeman said, "but I don't think he's actually... um... comm... committed...uhh" he began stammering.
"OH FUCK OFF, I've had enough of this shit. I've got places to go. Just give him some fucking fine or something." The fat man shouted, and turned back to his car. He stormed back to his car.
It was at this point, the taxi driver attempted to recover some of his lost man-hood. The taxi driver wound down his window, and extended his arm. I could imagine what was about to unfold. "Nooo... NOOO" I begged him mentally. The taxi driver waited intently, until the fat man was stepping into his car, and was unable to see him. Then, in an oddly western gesture, he extended his middle finger. Almost as though SENSING this, the fat man froze, and snapped his head back to the taxi driver. I could almost see the fire ignite in the fat man's eyes. The taxi driver's jaw dropped as he realised he was being watched, and quickly retracted his finger and arm. The fat man went into meltdown.
He got out of the car again, and slammed the door twice as hard. He then ran over and began pounding on the glass, screaming and yelling insults at the taxi driver. The policemen stood by impotently, unwilling to interfere. After a little while of performing his tantrum, he kicked the taxi solidly above the tire, drew back his fist again and looked at the taxi driver. The taxi driver was busy attempting to suck his head back into his neck. The fat mans face twisted into a scowl, and he seemed satisfied with his handiwork. He walked back to his car, fanged a short burnout and took off. The taxi driver shot a look of disgust at the police, and drove off, making the first turn he could. The police shrugged, and returned to their box. We 4 coffee shop Yakuza spectators exchanged silent wide eyed glances.
It was a very interesting glimpse into the world of the Yakuza. The Yakuza have deep roots in Japanese culture, centuries of intensely Japanese tradition. Yet they exhibit many non-Japanese characteristics : walking apart from the crowd - Japanese feel most comfortable being part of a crowd. Not taking any shit from anyone (including angry car horns) - Japanese patience and tolerance is almost supernatural. Never feeling the need to impose any limit on his anger and distaste for other people - Japanese are extremely sensitive to those around them, and do their best to keep the harmony with people around them.
A final word of advice - treat a Yakuza like a highly venemous snake. Somehow mesmorising to watch, yet you wouldn't want to have one within 10 meters of you.
One of the very few people that seem to do exactly what they feel like without concern for Japanese social obligation, are the Yakuza. If you put more than one Japanese in a room, it seems to create a social expectancy - each Japanese watches the other Japanese, to make sure that they don't accidentally do something considered unbecoming for a Japanese. This effect seems to multiply the more people are around. There are only a few people who don't give a shit about this omnipotent social pressure - crazy people, foreigners, andYakuza.
I've had some minor encounters with the Yakuza during the time I've been here. Once, I sat across one on a train. This guy was huge, easily twice my size - the kind of guy you normally only see in exaggerated Japanese fight comics. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that must have been tailor made, and he had scars on his face. He seemed as interested in me, as I was in him. We were happened to be on an express train that went for long periods of time with no stops. Both of us from a sense ofcuriousity caught each others eye. For a period of about 8 minutes, we were locked in eye contact. We coolly stared each other down. As I peered into his eyes, I tried to imagine his world. Was he a bodyguard? Some kind of fighter? Was his loyalty with one of the famousYakuza groups? Some kind of freelancer? I can only imagine he was looking at me, trying to likewise get a glimpse into my world. After some time, he broke eye contact, and got off at the next stop with a grace that defied his large frame. However the sense of accomplishment I got from winning thestaredown was defused by the realisation that he could twist my head off using his forefinger and thumb.
Most Yakuza seem to be regarded in a way akin to dangerous animals. Just stay out of their way, don't mess with them, avoid provoking them, and you will be able to co-exist without too many issues. TheYakuza seem to support some sections of Japanese society, and add their own value (and probably dallops of blackmail) which allows them to function without a huge amount of external problems from the police. There seem to be lines drawn in the sand however that both sides respect, and as long as neither side crosses the line,Yakuza and the other side of society functions in an uneasy symbiosis. Every now and again, these lines are blurred, and I was lucky enough to witness such an event.
Myself and some co-workers were sitting at an outside table at a Tullies in a downtown Kamiyacho. We were enjoying the summer heat (read : we were drenched in sweat and wishing we were anywhere else), and having a relaxed conversation. All of a sudden, we heard some brakes screeching. I looked up, and saw that a black Mercedes (a classicYakuza car) was stopped by a truck, which had slammed on its brakes. The truck was reacting to something unexpected on the road, and did an emergency stop. The black Mercedes followed suit. A taxi following behind the black Mercedes wasn't paying quite as much attention to the road as the truck and the Mercedes. The Taxi slammed on it's brakes, narrowly avoiding the black Mercedes. There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone, which was broken by the loud horn of the taxi.
*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*. *WHAAAWHAAAAAAAAAA* *WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
The Taxi driver held the horn down in a frustrated response to the unexpected stop. Silence fell once more.
*WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA*
The Mercedes door flew open. A fat, extremely well dressed man kicked his way out of the car, fumbling furiously with his seat beat. He turned and slammed the door behind him and began storming towards the taxi. The taxi driver immediately shit himself, locked his doors, and wound up his window.
"WHAT THE FUCK, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. YOU THINK YOU'RE TOUGH WITH YOUR HORN? YEAH? YOU THINK YOU'RE HARD? COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN. DONT YOU FUCKING PUT YOUR WINDOW UP," His words rumbled and screamed at the same time as he began hitting the glass with his fist.
The taxi driver put the car into reverse, before realising there was about half a meter of space from the car behind him, and a few inches from the car in front of him. He had no escape. He turned white as he double checked the locks on the door, and began scrambling for a phone to call the police.
"COME ON YOU BIG TOUGH MAN, GET OUT OF YOUR CAR AND FACE ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT." He roared.
Meanwhile, all four of us were sitting about 5 meters away watching the entire scene unfold. It was thoroughly fascinating.
Now, as luck would have it, there was a police station on the other side of the road. Two policemen approached the scene much like the bomb squad approaches a live explosive. The taxi driver looked visibly relieved.
"Uh, *ahem*, excuse me, sir?" The older policemen weakly offered.
"THANK GOD YOU'RE HERE. This human TURD started honking at me, and now he won't come out and face me like a FUCKING MAN. Can you please arrest this asshole immediately." The fat man exclaimed to the policemen. The policemen gulped and looked at each other. The taxi driver began turning white again, realising the police were of no help at all.
"Well... I'm sure you've been greatly troubled by this incident, sir," one policeman said, "but I don't think he's actually... um... comm... committed...uhh" he began stammering.
"OH FUCK OFF, I've had enough of this shit. I've got places to go. Just give him some fucking fine or something." The fat man shouted, and turned back to his car. He stormed back to his car.
It was at this point, the taxi driver attempted to recover some of his lost man-hood. The taxi driver wound down his window, and extended his arm. I could imagine what was about to unfold. "Nooo... NOOO" I begged him mentally. The taxi driver waited intently, until the fat man was stepping into his car, and was unable to see him. Then, in an oddly western gesture, he extended his middle finger. Almost as though SENSING this, the fat man froze, and snapped his head back to the taxi driver. I could almost see the fire ignite in the fat man's eyes. The taxi driver's jaw dropped as he realised he was being watched, and quickly retracted his finger and arm. The fat man went into meltdown.
He got out of the car again, and slammed the door twice as hard. He then ran over and began pounding on the glass, screaming and yelling insults at the taxi driver. The policemen stood by impotently, unwilling to interfere. After a little while of performing his tantrum, he kicked the taxi solidly above the tire, drew back his fist again and looked at the taxi driver. The taxi driver was busy attempting to suck his head back into his neck. The fat mans face twisted into a scowl, and he seemed satisfied with his handiwork. He walked back to his car, fanged a short burnout and took off. The taxi driver shot a look of disgust at the police, and drove off, making the first turn he could. The police shrugged, and returned to their box. We 4 coffee shop Yakuza spectators exchanged silent wide eyed glances.
It was a very interesting glimpse into the world of the Yakuza. The Yakuza have deep roots in Japanese culture, centuries of intensely Japanese tradition. Yet they exhibit many non-Japanese characteristics : walking apart from the crowd - Japanese feel most comfortable being part of a crowd. Not taking any shit from anyone (including angry car horns) - Japanese patience and tolerance is almost supernatural. Never feeling the need to impose any limit on his anger and distaste for other people - Japanese are extremely sensitive to those around them, and do their best to keep the harmony with people around them.
A final word of advice - treat a Yakuza like a highly venemous snake. Somehow mesmorising to watch, yet you wouldn't want to have one within 10 meters of you.
In pursuit of clarity ...
The Taxi slammed on it's brakes, narrowly avoiding the black Mercedes.
No! There is no apostrophe in 'its brakes'.
Literally you wrote 'it is brakes'.
Very interesting observations about a place I guess I'm unlikely to visit. Thanks!
Posted by alleagra — 10 Jan 2007, 20:32
oops! thanks for that. I'm normally pretty good with apostrophes in "its".
*hangs head in shame*.
Posted by firefly — 10 Jan 2007, 20:53
Fascinating story! It sounds like business as usual in any major US city, but in Japan it must have really been a spectacle.
Posted by [ sarah ] — 10 Jan 2007, 22:03
Do you have any balls? You sound like you are french.
Let some rice eating fat bitch come up to me (German-American) and start shouting. He will be sucking rice through a straw.
Posted by David Irving — 10 Jan 2007, 22:22
Hi Sarah, thanks for your comment! You're right - it was crazy for a city as peaceful as Tokyo.
Posted by firefly — 10 Jan 2007, 22:47
Fascinating look into the world of the Yakuza. I found this story to be quite enlightening. Keep up the good work!
ps at home, at work, on the internet- no one likes the grammar police.
Posted by Michael — 10 Jan 2007, 23:10
Thanks for the story. Since we're getting all grammar-y, may I suggest not using "myself" non-reflexively? "I and my co-workers..." or "My co-workers and I...". Not "Myself...".
Posted by mitch — 11 Jan 2007, 02:12
David Irving, what´s the problem is it: a) General trolling. b) Repressed memories of bullying at school resurfacing. c) Being under the age of 15 and therefore still at school being bullied. d) Trying to battle a fully developed insecurity complex by talking "hard" online where noone can see your "German-American" face. e) All of the above.
Posted by asfd — 11 Jan 2007, 02:38
David Irving, what´s the problem?
Is it: a) General trolling. b) Repressed memories of bullying at school resurfacing. c) Being under the age of 15 and therefore still at school being bullied. d) Trying to battle a fully developed insecurity complex by talking "hard" online where noone can see your "German-American" face. e) All of the above.
Posted by asfd — 11 Jan 2007, 02:38
@ asdf
GFYM
Posted by David Irving — 11 Jan 2007, 02:43
aleagra is telling people how to spell...with a name like that? /whatever
Posted by anonymous — 11 Jan 2007, 04:29
Interesting and very well written. I never would have guessed that the police would handle it like that.
@ David Irving
Go scratch your zits
Posted by Charver — 11 Jan 2007, 04:38
@David Irving, on the Internet, no one knows you are a dog.
Posted by Tor — 11 Jan 2007, 06:20
"Myself and some co-workers" is wrong.
Posted by GrammarBoy — 11 Jan 2007, 06:46
Yakuza are the same as any Gang. Dangerous unpredicable maniacs. Kind of like Police men really.
Posted by Ranulf Fiennes — 11 Jan 2007, 07:07
And then Robert De Niro stepped out of the taxi, pulled with him a club and beat the fat japanese Yakuza guy to a pulp. He then proceeded to wipe out the entire Yakuza in japan saying stuff like
"I think someone should just take this city and just... just flush it down the fuckin' toilet."
and
"Let me tell you something. You're in a hell, and you're gonna die in a hell, just like the rest of 'em!"
Posted by Kristmundur — 11 Jan 2007, 07:46
Two observations:
1) The yakuza and the police are reputed to have been in bed with each other since forever. The common bond, apprently, involves a taste for far-right-wing ideology.
2) I wonder if what you witnessed was more interesting because of its possible yakuza-ness or because of the road rage issue.
Many years ago, when I lived in a high-rise apartment building in Waseda (Tokyo), I heard a loud crash outside from the street. I went out to my 9th floor balcony, and watched two drivers screaming at each other. One had been driving a truck, the other, a car. The guttural screaming of profanities would have done any yakuza proud. Then, the truck driver got back into his truck, restarted the ignition, and rammed the car one more time just for good measure.
One of the funniest things I ever witnessed when I lived over there, and it suggested to me that road rage is one universal among human beings.
ÀΡ¢Åìµþ¤Ë½»¤ó¤Ç¤¤¤¿ËÍ
Posted by Dave — 11 Jan 2007, 08:04
A little bit like german fraternity-students
Posted by Michael — 11 Jan 2007, 09:29
Hey Charver, thanks very much. Yep, the police is pretty much useless over here. Scary isn't it. I have more to say about the police though - I have another great story about a time I was almost arrested.
Posted by firefly — 11 Jan 2007, 11:33
Kristmundur - that would have been a much better ending.
Dave - thats a great story. Somehow nice to see that beneath all of that politeness and social conditioning is a regular person who gets pissed off just like a 'westerner' !
Posted by firefly — 11 Jan 2007, 11:40
Firefly:
Thanks--I'm glad you liked it.
I've got a police story, too. I even got to ride in the back of a ¥Ñ¥È¥«¡¼ into the bowels of the Ikebukuro Police Station, which was kind of like riding the Batmobile into Bruce Wayne's subterranean lair. (This was, unfortunately, before the days of blogs...)
dave
Posted by Dave — 12 Jan 2007, 04:51
Rule of thumb about Japanese criminal justice, by the way:
It's harder to get arrested than it is in the US.
But once you do manage to get yourself arrested, it's much harder to get free of the criminal justice system.
Posted by Dave — 12 Jan 2007, 04:58
An ex-girfriend of mine was the daughter of the prefectural Chief of Police in Saitama. She says there is no longer any corruption in the Japanese police -- they've eliminated it all.
I'm not so sure, though, because in the very next sentence she continued, "Yeah, and my dad is Chief of Police, so if you ever need a get-out-of-jail-free card, you know who to call!"
She somehow didn't see the humor in this :/
Posted by Amanojack — 14 Jan 2007, 00:57
You all can talk as much shit as you want. The fact remains, Yakuza would only work in a land full of sheeple. In America, that fat fuck WOULD be eating his rice through a straw. If the jap is going to DRESS like a white man then they should ACT like a man as well... or change their name to ETA.
And the rest of you can GFYM.
Posted by David Irving — 15 Jan 2007, 22:04
Interesting story firefly and a great read. Yes, the yakuza are a different breed and I have known a few, one who is still my best friend to this day.
I also have a story of a run in with "chinpira", young yakuza in training which I will post. Also, I have been arrested once during my years in Japan and spent two weeks in jail because of it, but that is a long story and will be in a few parts.
Dave is right. Hard to get arrested in Japan and very hard to get out if you do!
@Mr. Irving: I'd really like to see you act that out in Japan with a real yakuza guy looking you square in the eye. You'd shit your pants. Maybe you already did when you lived there. Funny how people are so brave behind a typwriter. And no thanks as I already FYM!
Posted by Pachipro — 20 Jan 2007, 01:54
@ Packipro
I am using a keyboard and not a typewriter, Yanki Chikusho. So kusokurae.
Posted by David Irving — 30 Jan 2007, 00:59
That was quite the entertaining story, in fact, I've become fascinated with Japanese culture from stumbling upon your site from reddit an hour ago.
Btw David Irving, have you considered the ridiculousness of coming back to this article time and time again to see what people have to say to you?
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