demae onegaishimasu

(or How Kristen Reclaimed Her Title as Queen of 'Za)

Part 1 Pittsburgh, 1989-1994

Way back when Tod & I were first married, we slacked all the time. We lived in a cheap, run down apartment on the second floor of a small house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Our jobs were less than fulfilling; we had little money; our friends were still in college or just graduated or had dropped out along the way and had even less interesting jobs than ours. We ate a lot of late night pizza.

As the well-brought-up hostess of our midnight pizza gatherings I dug out the plates and napkins and served the food. Since our friends (all men) knew I inwardly cringed at being so blatently domestic and because I'm sure they didn't want me to stop looking for the plates and things, they dubbed me the Queen of 'Za.

Eventually, the late nights drew to an end as we and our friends got better jobs for which we had to wake too early in the morning. We drifted apart to persue our adult lives and the Queen of 'Za was forgotten.

Part 2 Tokyo, Autumn 1998

Tod & I had been living in Tokyo for a few weeks before we saw our first Strawberry Cones delivery scooter.

"Hey, that looks like pizza delivery," Tod said as we walked by it.

"And ice cream," I added incredulously. "Wouldn't it be nice to order a pizza after a long day at work? Or on a lazy weekend?"

"We'd have to order in Japanese," Tod reminded me.

That ended that conversation and the dream of a hot pizza in our living room, as we had about 20 words of Japanese between us and most of it was useful for apologising, but not for ordering pizza. You see, our method of communicating in Japanese involved eye contact with lots of pointing, smiling, grimacing and nodding of heads interspersed with the occasional hai and domo arigato. Conversations over the phone were out of our league.

Shortly after seeing the Strawberry Cones scooter, we started taking Japanese lessons and a month or so later we invited some friends to our apartment for a Saturday afternoon study party. Among the guests was Tara Immell who lives in our neighborhood and has been studying Japanese for a lot longer than we have. She was writing kanji while the rest of us practiced kana and simple greetings.

As the sun set and we began to think of dinner, Tara suggested ordering a pizza. I had been collecting the delivery menus that appeared in our mailbox, so after a few minutes of debate, we selected a strange corn and potato pizza and one with more traditional toppings. Tara dialled the phone and ordered with ease.

"Ah, someday we'll be able to do that. And when we can, we'll know we're established," Tod dreamed.

Part 3 Tokyo, Christmas Day 1998

Time passed, we studied hard and Christmas arrived. After work on Christmas day, we went shopping (Christmas shopping on Christmas!) then headed home to open the presents we'd just purchased. And to order our first pizza.

I stood in front of the phone, pizza menu in hand. "I know I can do this," I encouraged myself. The phone hung menacingly on the wall, daring me to try. I took a deep breath and attacked it. But my bravado was false and my fingers trembled as I punched the numbers.

"Blah blah blahblahblahblahblah Do mee no zu blahblahblahblahblahblah," a young male voice chanted. There was a pause.

"Demae onegaishimasu," I ventured.

"Blah blah blah blahblahblah bango desu ka?" he asked.

"San nana ichi go," I began slowly. "Yon nana..." Tod prompted me on the last two digits of our phone number. I'm never good with numbers and they are even trickier when I have to translate them into Japanese. "...roku hachi."

"Blah blah blah Sumitsu-san desu ka?" he confirmed.

"Hai," I said, even though we're not Mr. Smith. He was the previous tenant. "Bajiriko derakusu. Eru saizu."

"Hai"

"Itarian kurasuto, gariku fareba."

"Sumimasen, gariku fareba blah blah blah," he apologised.

"Oh. Orijinaru fareba desu."

"Hai. Blah blah blah blah blahblahblah ka?" Oh, no! He had asked me something I didn't understand at all. I asked him to repeat and I caught something about drinks--nomimono.

"That's all," I lamely replied in English. I heard him stifle a giggle and he reeled off a price and the delivery time.

I hung up the phone and grinned broadly, jumping up and down to celebrate my triumph. "I ordered a pizza! I ordered a pizza!," I sang over and over. To say I was pleased is an understatement--I was elated.

After I had finished the Happy Dance of Pizza Delivery(tm), I picked up the phone and called Tara to share the joy. It's awfully nice to have friends who can get as excited about your minor triumphs as you do, and Tara relayed the news to her husband, Seth. We rejoiced all around then went back to our Christmas activities.

The best gift of all is that the Queen of 'Za reigns again.