It is that last option that intrigues me. You could almost write the story yourself for any of the people on this train. I wonder if this is now how novels are born?  You always find one person that intrigues you. You watch them analysing them. Trying to discover hat their lives must be like. Your mind drifts as you begin to paint the picture for them.  You don't need to know. Your interpretation is much more exciting, adventurous.

It is then, when it hits you square in the face.  You are compensating, remapping everything you wish your own life was, onto the frame of another commuter.

There is something strange about the Department of Motor Vehicles that is not limited to a specific country, they look like crap.

The strange thing is, this is my experience in several different states and, wait for it... Japan!

What is it about the process of dealing with the bureacracies involved in owning and driving that fosters an environment that resembles a modern day scene from some 1950's immigration office?

And the poor bastards that work there day in and day out? I have a new found respect for them now that I am just an observer.

The funny thing,is, is that with the cast of characters both in front of and behind the counter, there is plenty of material here for a long running sitcom.

So my view of best and worst is Newark being best (at least the have computers on most desks) and Sumeizu in Tokyo being the absolute worse. My reason for Tokyo being the worst is that, like most government buildings, they have been in the same location since the US occupation after WWII and being a country of "if it aint broke, don't fix it" their processes have also pretty much remained the same; very manual and with lots of papers.

So what about where you are? I would like to think that it is not this bad everywhere and that somehow it is just part of my destiny to have to deal with shit hole DMV Offices.

For the most part we don't often thin about death or how close it is to all of us at any given point in time. That is until a phone call comes from out of the blue.

A bit of history before I continue. I was living abroad for a number of years, not always with the means to jump on a flight home when I wanted to. During one of these times I got a call that something bad had happened at work with my father. He sustained a chemical burn that triggered a mild heart attack that was not noticed. Later he had a full blown one that required him to undergo bypass surgery.

It was the most helpless I had felt ever. I could go home, couldn't be there for my Mom who was left to deal with it on her own. In some ways that made it all seem less real. Today is different.

I got a call in a meeting today from a close family friend telling me that my father had to leave work via ambulance with pain in his arm, light headdedness and difficulty breathing. It was happening again. The twist is that my Mom is here visiting and doesn't know yet.

Needless to say, I left work and am now on my way home, while waiting for more information so I can figure out how to tell her. Then what?

As I sit here absorbing the situation, I am feeling the way I did on 9/11, realizing how fragile our lives are and how easy it is that we all take our existance for granted.

I am sure the next 24 to 48 hours are going to be tough, but somehow we will make it through. I guess that is just the eternal optimist in me.

Race.... Now that I have left Japan after 16 years, I have begun to do a lot of thinking around why I stayed there as long as I did.

One of the interesting things I have stumbled across is that of Race. The beautiful thing about Japan is the same thing that this culture used to promote its rage against the world in the 1940's. It's unique pride in being Japanese and all things that are culturally Japanese. There is an unspoken pride here. So much so, that for those of us who are not Japanese we realize that we all are just plain Foreigners. Black, White, Indian, Pakistani, British, South African, even Chinese, all foreigners... period. You are either Japanese or you aren't. It is that simple.

I was having a drink last night with a friend who 1. is white, 2, is british and 3, speaks Japanese fluently. We were discussing life her since he has been here almost 20 years as well. We began talking about the whole "Black" thing that exists in the U.S.. You know blacks taking care of fellow blacks, or more specifically an incident he was involved in when breaking up a fight between some white guy and a black guy. The all knew each other, but alcohol was involved and when tensions broke out and the black guy was pulled out by my friend to have him calm down and tried to rationalize with him. The black guy claimed "If I don't do anything then it will be all of your white fists reigning down on me later." I was amazed when he told me this. What the hell was that about?!? It was a gaijin on gaijin fight. No Japanese involved so there was not really the thought of a cultural conflict. But he brought his American mentality of racism into the mix. My friend (british guy) was so pissed when he was hit with the U.S. race card.

My friend started asking me what the deal with that was. That is when I got a bit frustrated because I really am not sure if I understand it. You see, being half white, born in the U.K., raised in the military and not really having grown up in the "hood" I don't think I will ever really understand. But I do know that because I look more black I have been lumped into a race category of black. That is o.k., I have always been in this position and have accepted it as my first race. I guess the thing is, growing up, I never realized I was black or anything else, I was just Rik. I had white friends, Korean friends, black friends and it was all good.

That all ended when we left the military and at the age of 14, I was enrolled into a public school outside of Philadelphia. That was when I saw the race gaps up close and personal. Blacks clinging to blacks, whites with money hanging with their own and that was the way it was. No one talked about it, or questioned it. I had to assimilate. I began to meld into the black crowd since visibly that was where I was more accepted.

It wasn't until I joined the military myself that I realized this type of thing also really existed in the military. Don't let anyone ever tell you that race is not an issue in the military, it is. Now when it comes to going to war or doing your job, it is not an issue at all. You are really the band of brothers and the job gets done. It is when there is down time or when there is no ware that it is the most evident. I remember when I reported to my first unit, they were living in an open squad-bay (big room lots of bunk beds and lockers) About 48 people living in one big room together. When I went in the first thing I noted was that there was no assigned racks like basic training. You basically grabbed the bed where you wanted to. But when I looked around something startled me. Everyone one was grouped. Latino, Black, Redneck, White were the larger groups. Again, I was assimilated into the black section based on looks.

I don't regret any of it, I am saying I didn't understand why society has to group based on physical appearance. Most of my best friends are black, I have rhythm now, and I continue to be a huge fan of black music and culture. In most outward situations, I am black. But I look at all people as humans with different cultures that have interesting bits and pieces that I want to know more about.

In the end one thing I have been able to develop because of all of this is the ability to meld into a situation and be whatever the moment calls from. I can go into a black club and be black, go into a fancy restaurant at a posh white country club and emerge unscathed. I have gone to Hawaii and with the change of a shirt become a pineapple eating local. Or been in the Philippines and been compared to the likes of Ricky Dabau a famous Philippine actor. Spanish, Puerto Rican, Philippine, Hawaiian, Black, I have been mistaken for them all. A regular Chameleon. But I guess that is why I have managed for so long and love traveling the world. I just love people and the more I can experience, even if that means melding in the moment's surroundings I have done so. In most cases not intentional, it just is how I have managed to fit in throughout my life. I assimilate the culture I am confronted with. Good, bad or ugly, it is me, and how I navigate through this life. Problem is, within the black community, I do run the risk of being labeled a sell-out. Hell, look how long it took for some to turn on Bill Cosby. Now that is confusion in a race.

As I sit here in my apartment, I happened to glance out the window and realized that at night, the building across the street has windows all lit up like little aquariums. I am not a peeping tom and usually have my blinds closed all of the time. But since it is getting warm here in the City, I decided to open up the window. To do so, I had to open the Louvre blinds a bit to let the breeze in.

There are many windows that appear to either not have blinds at all or the occupants refuse to use them. It is like watching an ant farm or a bunch of aquariums with various types of fish and activity buzzing within the apartments. I guess most people here don't mind the occasional non intended glance into their lives. Bugs the hell out of me to be honest. As a matter of fact.... I'm closing my damn shades right now.