Oma uh-oh (written in October, sorry)

I've talked about the Oma Tuna Festival before on here (there should be some pictures if you sift through the posts from two years ago). This year would have been my third time attending.

Would have been. Things didn't turn exactly as planned.

The problem provably wasn't so much that I volunteered to drive, it's that I volunteered to drive Sam and Allie. Since Sam lives several towns to the north, it only made sense that we try to drop his car off on our way up to Aomori to save him two hours on the way back.

We came up with a plan. A very bad plan.

Sam would take the slow route north, avoiding the highway in favor of the tamer route 4 - yes, that route 4 - which gave Allie and I time to grab her stuff from the station, jump on the highway, and reach Sam's exit exactly when he would arrive. Sam parks somewhere nearby, hops the fence, and away we go!

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

So Allie and I head north as planned. Reaching the agreed-upon exit, we pull over, drape our legs out the window, don sunglasses and enjoy ourselves a nice summer day. Allie cracks open a chu-hai (open container laws? wuzzat?) and browses my ipod.

I call Sam. He's late. Not just late, lost. We're gonna be here a while. Allie digs around her purse for the second chu-hai (there's a reason we're friends).

My phone rings. "I'm at the exit," Sam says, "but the guys at the gate are giving me weird looks." Whatever. He makes a break for it, sprinting up the entrance ramp.

About this time my car's noticed by a passing patrol car in the oncoming lane. bit of an uh-oh. a small man in full patrolman gear (bright blue fireproof suit and a gigantic, shiny white helmet) dashes across the highway frogger-esque, protected the large yellow "Slow down!" sign he is waving frantically at vehicles barreling towards him.

He's perched on the guardrail at the median when I roll down my window.

"Is there a problem officer?"
"No stopping!"
"I'm just waiting for a friend."
"No stopping!"

We're shouting across a pretty busy highway (for Japan). I'm wondering if I'll get deported if he loses his balance and dents somebody's bumper.

"He's on his way now, though..."
"You can wait at a rest stop just ahead."
"Gotcha, sorry..." I start the car and head off. Deportation: postponed

Sam, meanwhile, had rounded the bend in the ramp just as we drove off. Poor guy has to run BACK through the toll booths and get back in his car.

Eventually we do the smart thing and get off the highway together, leave Sam's car at a convenience store, and head north.

We don't make it in time for the festival. Too many booze stops.

(worth it)