i'm gonna buy you a superball

Whenever I see Hello Kitty I think of the day I spent in Japan. I was traveling from China to New Jersey and my connecting flight got canceled. The airline bussed us out to a Tokyo hotel, where I made the acquaintance of two mustachioed oriental rug dealers who were on the same small flight.

We marveled at the shot-size cans of coke sold in the vending machine outside the restaurant. I really wanted one, full or empty, but all I had was a restaurant voucher.

In my hotel room, when I spread my arms out in bed, I could touch the opposite walls. In terms of floor space, the largest area was under the chair tucked under the desk, where I stashed my purse.

I can’t begrudge the pinch. Of the 16,500 days in my life, I’ve only had room for one day in Japan.

A lot of people have asked what my position is regarding Hello Kitty. To me she is like those little coke cans. One of the rug dealers bought one. Drinking it, he planted his bowtie mustache on its small head. This was the mouth-watering birth of Hello Kitty in my imagination, even though at that time she hadn’t been invented yet.

I don’t know Hello Kitty personally but when I see her on my infrequent jaunts through accessories I think of my tiny night in Japan. Not even room for a comma.