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Description
(All of my jail stories can be found in the Number 979 folder in my gallery)

I'm going to rewind a bit and take you back to the police station to address a friend's question: " I wonder if treat criminals as nice as they did you -are they as pleasant?"

I can't say for sure, but I do think that my kind treatment at the police station was due to me being pleasant and cooperative from the very start. Also, my arrest was a result of them being so Japanese in the way they do things: by the book. No matter how harmless I seemed, I was carrying a knife, so I need to be arrested. They were almost apologetic when they were arresting me.

I was at the station for over 12 hours, so we had some time to get to know each other. The more they interrogated me, the more ridiculous everything seemed: I was riding in Chiba for 22 hours on a friggin' mamachari, playing in wild beach waves and running around in wet boots. It was clear I was just a quirky girl with strange hobbies.

Perhaps if I was more dangerous they wouldn't have been so personable. I'm sure I still would have gotten the bathroom breaks, tea, and food, though.

Before I was hauled off to the detention center, Police Chief Yamada and Mr. Honda, the interpreter (I needed one for the difficult words), gave me very nice farewells.

Description
(All of my jail stories can be found in the Number 979 folder in my gallery)

I'm going to rewind a bit and take you back to the police station to address a friend's question: " I wonder if treat criminals as nice as they did you -are they as pleasant?"

I can't say for sure, but I do think that my kind treatment at the police station was due to me being pleasant and cooperative from the very start. Also, my arrest was a result of them being so Japanese in the way they do things: by the book. No matter how harmless I seemed, I was carrying a knife, so I need to be arrested. They were almost apologetic when they were arresting me.

I was at the station for over 12 hours, so we had some time to get to know each other. The more they interrogated me, the more ridiculous everything seemed: I was riding in Chiba for 22 hours on a friggin' mamachari, playing in wild beach waves and running around in wet boots. It was clear I was just a quirky girl with strange hobbies.

Perhaps if I was more dangerous they wouldn't have been so personable. I'm sure I still would have gotten the bathroom breaks, tea, and food, though.

Before I was hauled off to the detention center, Police Chief Yamada and Mr. Honda, the interpreter (I needed one for the difficult words), gave me very nice farewells.