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asking for things
by Simon Proffitt
Your box is unique. If you want to get pedantic and microscopic about it, then of course everything is unique, in a sense - but your box is really and truly unique. Sunnyvale have been collecting things - stickers, badges, electrical components, charts, bubblegum etc. - and they've put one of these things in each box. Some of the things are useless, some of them are reasonably desirable, but there's a story behind every one of them.
Item #6: Hungarian Ballroom Dancing 7"
2pm, the Cafe Janos, somewhere on the east side of the Danube. We sat, silent but content, enjoying watching people bustle around in the street. Over on the other side, a tramp was pissing into the bushes whilst trying to shout to his mate, reclining on a bench. His lack of concentration and general unsteadiness meant that his two carrier-bags of belongings got a healthy watering along with the plants. The waiters had failed for quite some time to venture out to the few tables huddled happily on the pavement, so I decided to go inside and seek out another couple of coffees. The staff were reluctant to notice me at first, but eventually gestured a pretty contemptuous acknowledgement that I wanted two more of the same. Seemingly hours later, two cups were plonked in front of us with much significance, like the waiter was proving a point, or perhaps making the winning move at dominoes. Then he sloped off back inside to hide in the dark. Then nothing. I eventually tried to pay for our drinks, but no-one was around. I wandered back outside.
- Come on, let's just split, I said to H.
- We'll get put in prison! We'll never see daylight again!
- I've tried to pay, I explained, but no-one's around.
We left as nonchalantly as we could, trying not to cause a stir, my heart racing. As soon as we got to the building next door, we ran - away from the unpaid-for coffees, away from the rude, hiding waiters. I dashed into the first open shop - an old record shop. Then calmly into the basement. We browsed for some time, my heart still beating faster than normal, sweat beading on my forehead. I didn't recognise any of the records - old, dusty, folk records, imcomprehensible covers. I was feeling so guilty about the coffees that I decided to buy something. I went for the cheapest two I could find: one, a faded and tattered folk album with three traditionally dressed young women dancing on the front. The other, a nicely packaged 7" - an orange cover with stylised ballroom dancers. When we emerged from the shop I half expected the local police force to be waiting for us, batons and automatic weapons at the ready, but the street was empty.
[This thing was too big to fit in the box. It is currently the record in my 7" picture frame which I haven't got around to re-affixing to my new bedroom wall. Other things too big for the box include a toy car with light-up, er, lights and a huge bag of plastic cable ties which I have also requisitioned for my own uses. - M]
Item #33: Christmas card from Auntie Barbara and Uncle Selwyn
Auntie Barbara is my dad's sister. Uncle Selwyn's sister's husband's brother is Patrick Stewart, aka Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise. Uncle Selwyn has not, to my knowledge, ever met Patrick Stewart.
Item #52: The Periodic Table
Some handy mnemonics:
La Larry
Ce Ceaselessly
Pr Prodded
Nd Nadia's
Pm Perm.
Sm Smelly
Eu European.
Gd God,
Tb Terrible
Dy Dyssentry.
Ho How
Er Erratically
Tm Timed!
Yb You bet.
----
Sc Scandal!
Ti Timid
V Venezuelans
Cr Crippled
Mn Many
Fe Fearsome
Co Colombian
Ni Nieces.
Cu Customary
Zn Zaniness.
Item # 74: 3D postcard of the Virgin Mary
Purchased from the Cathedral Cloisters in Barcelona, shortly before I was pecked by geese.
Item # 77: Shirokiya beermat
We didn't finish work until past midnight, by which time we were too exhausted to be hungry. Our hosts thought otherwise. They'd been promising to take us out for dinner all week.
- So, ok, now we can eat something, yes?
- Well, I said, I'm actually very tired.
- No no, not tired, they laughed. Let's go eat.
It was rude to say no, plus they were paying. We followed them down the street, past the Crystal Karaoke, past the Pachinko arcade, to the Shirokiya bar.
- Only good restaurant open now, they said.
The window had a huge sticker on it - a larger than life cartoon of a beered-up Scouser. Black perm, moustache, shell-suit. I laughed hard. A Scouse bar in Osaka! Unbelievable.
- What is Scouse bar? they asked, bewildered by my reaction.
- Someone from the city of Liverpool, in England,
I explained. It is a national joke that they all look like this.
- Ah, this not Scouser, they said. He Shirokiya mascot.
Items #78 and #79: Japanese business cards and Betty Blue Bar business card
The Emon Building had a bewildering number of floors, and a bewildering number of bars of each floor. We chose the fourth - Betty Blue's implied a seedy kind of fun not to be had elsewhere. The lift opened onto a tiny landing. We were surrounded by doors, but we didn't understand the signs on them. We chose the nearest one, directly opposite the lift door, and when G. opened it we were immediately greeted by shrieks and grunts from those within - all making big NO! cross signs with their arms and shaking their heads. We quickly closed the door again. We guessed they didn't like foreigners. So to the next door, and, it turned out, to the Betty Blue Shot Bar. It was tiny, but welcoming. Three local guys were sitting at the bar, slaughtered. One was on the floor, asleep or dead. The bar owner grinned at us and beckoned us inside.
- Herro! he beamed. I have MICRO COCK!
Everyone fell about laughing, slapping the bar top and holding their sides. We laughed too. This was too weird. The guy nearest to us took a deep breath and croaked 'Vagina!' - more insane laughter, and echoes from the others. 'Vagina! Micro cock! Va-gi-na!'
We bought them all a beer, and they taught us the local word for vagina. I won't repeat it here because it's too rude.
Items #83-91: Various electrical components
I stole these from G.'s desk at work. Also in there was a pirate copy of Debbie Does Dallas, but I left that alone. He claims to have been in the SAS, but no-one believes him.
Item #102: Royal Pines breakfast coupon
Entitles the bearer to one buffet style breakfast at the Moriguchi Royal Pines Hotel, served in the Pines Restaurant between 7.30 and 10am. There, you will find a selection of pastries, cereals, fresh fruit (pineapple, grapefruit, orange, grape), beer, sausages, baby squid, cold crispy bacon, seaweed, cucumber, spaghetti bolognese, fish paste and boiled eggs.
Item #129: John Fowler Holiday Parks car window sticker
From Westward Ho! - the only place in the United Kingdom with an official exclamation mark. Ballocks!, Northumberland was renamed in 1856 to the significantly more couth Bellingham, dropping the exclamation in the process. I lost heavily at poker in John Fowler's Westward Ho! Holiday Park.
Item #144: DN40 OFHC [oxygen free, highly conductive] copper gasket (unused)
A tip on fitting copper gaskets to vertically aligned flanges:
Obtain two pieces of standard masking tape. Dull its stickiness by sticking it to your arm or trousers a few times, but not so many times that it loses all adhesive properties. This requires some experience. Position the gasket into the static flange, and apply the tape to the upper and lower edges of the gasket such that the it is held loosely in place. Be careful not to let the tape impinge on the sub-knife edge zone! This will lead to loss of vacuum, either by creating leakage pathways or by leaving outgassable residue. Introduce the other flange, make sure the connection is flush, and do up a couple of bolts to hand tightness on either side (preferably left and right, not top and bottom). Carefully remove the tape. Insert the remaining bolts, and tighten according to standard flange conventions.
Item #197: Set of 6 'Equipment not to be used' stickers
A night off in the Bay Area, and I had access to the car. There was only one place to go - the City of Sunnyvale. A pilgrimage, if you like. I made straight for South Murphy. This was where it was all happening. I parked the Mitsubishi and wandered into Paul & Harvey's, the neon luring me in with the exotic promise of COCKTAILS. I made myself comfortable at the bar and waited for service.
- Hi, I'm Linda, what can I get you? said Linda, fortysomething and bitter.
- I'm driving, so better not make it too strong, I said. Are any of your cocktails non-alcoholic?
- We have Sprite, she replied.
I ordered a Sprite (bottomless) and a coffee and surveyed the scene. To my left, a baseball capped dude, long haired and slouched, playing with toothpicks. To my right, an old guy watching the bar TV. He was wearing a raincoat.
- Hey, hey man, slainte! said Toothpick Guy. He was clearly speaking to me.
I raised my Sprite.
- Slainte!
- You know what that means, man? You know what slainte means?
I told him it was Irish. He asked where I was from, and then told me a joke. I don't remember now what it was, but I'd heard it before. It turned out he was from further up the west coast. Portland, to be precise. He was down in the Bay with his buddy and his truck, dismantling failed Silicon Valley business premises and selling stuff for scrap. We talked about music. He raved about Primus and L7 and Soundgarden, but he hadn't heard of anyone from Cardiff. Or any of the Portland bands I mentioned to him. Still, he was pretty cool. He reached into his biking jacket and pulled out a handful of stickers.
- Here ya go, man, have these. We found 'em earlier in a place in Mountain View. He slid them across the bar to me. I smiled.
- They're fantastic, I said, genuinely thrilled. Thanks.
Item #221: Tokyo Hotel Abyss condom (pack of two)
It was past 11pm, and the last train back home was at 9.30. Time to find a hotel. I knew that the subway line I was close to eventually ended up at Shinjuku. I'd heard of that - there were bound to be hotels there. There were certainly none where I was. I started walking in a vague westerly direction, away from the city, but hopefully towards Shinjuku. An hour later, looming tower blocks signalled my arrival, their upper floors circled Manga-like by blinking red safety lights. I was tired, my feet hurt. I entered the first hotel I came to: the delightfully named Abyss. Room rates were by the hour, or by the night. The receptionist guy, behind a barred window, spoke no English. He double checked to see whether I was alone, and gave me a plastic block with 303 on it. He pointed upstairs.
The door to room 303 was open. The room was beautiful, and well furnished: a microwave, an enormous TV, huge ceiling speakers, a sex toy vending machine and two karaoke microphones hanging over the bed's headboard. I flicked the TV on - four channels of porn, and CNN. GREAT. Over by the desk - Hello Kitty shampoo, Hello Kitty moisturiser, a shoe-shine kit and a pack of condoms. Aha, condoms, I thought - this is a Love Hotel.
Item #257: Scottish pound note
Obtained during Sunnyvale's first trip across The Border. It was from the Spar, just round the corner from M.'s flat. I'd purchased a packet of Hob-Nobs and half a litre of chocolate milk.
Item #265: Canadian activity-bear postcards
I was in Banff. I bought postcards. They were the only silly ones in the shop. They had teddy bears on them. All the others were earnest shots of mountains, or sympathetic portraits of moose. The shop guy put the postcards in a bag.
- It's ok, I don't need a bag, I said. I've already got one.
- Alberta has an oil-based economy, he replied, deadpan. We have to give you a bag.
Item #288: Electron micrograph photos of DVD lands and pits
Taken using a JEOL JSM6500FE scanning electron microscope. The lands and pits are from the lead-in zone of a demo master version of You've Got Mail, directed by Nora Ephron.
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