Flat Stanley in Japan, Part II: Our Memorable Cab Ride

"Flat Stanley, you deserve a special treat for being such a good boy in Dr. T's office this morning. Since we are already in Yokohama, how would you like to go to an art show in the Kannai neighborhood? You can meet my artist friend, Takako. This is her first group exhibit and I know she would appreciate our support. Maybe Mary Beth and Mimi will be there and we can have lunch in a restaurant after we admire the paintings."

Stanley was up for another adventure so we hopped on the scenic Kanazawa Seaside Line right outside Dr. T's office and rode it all the way to where it ends in Shin-Sugita. We followed the signs to the JR Negishi train line through a busy shopping arcade.

"Aunt Kathy, there are so many platforms," Stanley said rather nervously. "Which one should we stand on to catch the train that will take us to the Kannai neighborhood?" "That's a very good question, Flatty. I am fairly certain Kannai is almost in the middle of Yokohama so let's go to the platform for the trains that go to Yokohama station."

The route map nailed to a post on Platform #2 listed Kannai as two stops before Yokohama station. Stanley jubilantly pumped his fist. "You rock, Aunt Kathy!" "It was a lucky guess," I replied with my usual modesty.

Sixteen minutes later we exited the train at Kannai. "The art show closes in 20 minutes, Stanley, and I'm not exactly sure where the gallery is located. This postcard Takako gave me has directions but they're written in Japanese. Let's just hop in a taxicab and show the postcard to the driver." Stanley pumped his fists for the second time. "Yay! Wait until the kids at Hanover-Horton Elementary School find out I got to ride in a taxi! Do you do this a lot, Aunt Kathy?" "Yes, but this will be the first time I've taken a taxicab by myself. Usually Uncle Mike does all the talking."

The taxi stand was located right outside the station door. The rear passenger door of the first cab in line opened as if by magic; the driver had pressed a button to open the door when he saw us approaching. "This is so cool," giggled Stanley. I handed the driver our postcard. He studied it carefully, handed it back to me, and I tucked the postcard in my bag as the driver carefully pulled out into the line of traffic and immediately executed a thrilling U-turn. A recording reminded us in English to fasten our seatbelts. "How did he know we speak English instead of another language, like German?" Stanley whispered in my ear. "Well, for one thing, we're not wearing Birkenstocks," I joked. Stanley giggled so hard he started fluttering. "Aunt Suzi will sure confuse all the Japanese cab drivers, won't she?"

Our driver turned left at the first light, drove two blocks, pulled over to the curb, scanned the buildings to our left and right, scratched his head, and remarked, "somethingsomethingsomethingsomethingPOSTCARDsomething."We retrieved the postcard from our bag and handed it to him. He punched lots of buttons on his GPS, furrowed his brow, scratched his head, held up his index finger, gestured towards the nearest building, unfastened his seatbelt, and returned the postcard as he exited the cab.

"What's happening, Aunt Kathy?" Stanley wondered as I tucked the postcard back in my bag. "Well, Stan, no one's ever accused me of suffering from an over-abundance of situational awareness, but I am fairly certain he wants us to stay put while he asks the people in that building how to find the art gallery."

Seconds later, the driver returned to the taxi, fastened his seatbelt, turned his head, and said, "somethingsomethingsomethingPOSTCARD ," so once again I pulled the postcard out of my bag and handed it to him. The driver whipped out a cell phone and called the gallery. Our driver and the person at the gallery spoke for so long that Stanley and I were starting to wonder if they might be old friends inquiring about the career choices of every member of their junior high class. With a final "somethingsomething2-CHOMEsomething," our driver closed his phone and returned my postcard before pulling away from the curb. Somehow he managed to communicate that the gallery address had been misprinted on the postcard.

We turned left at the next light and left again at the first major intersection. Two blocks later Stanley and I recognized the train station looming directly ahead of us. The driver turned left at the light just before the train station. We spotted our taxi stand across the street on our right just as our driver pulled to the side of the road and pointed to a brick building on our left.

"Hey, Aunt Kathy, check out that big red sign hanging in front of the building!" The large red sign on the building directly across from the train station exit looked exactly like our postcard but about a hundred times bigger. "I see what you mean about situational awareness," Stanley snickered. I laughed, the cab driver laughed, and then Stanley and I felt very, very sorry that cab drivers in Japan do not accept tips. Our cab driver certainly went the extra half-mile for us.