Sea-Cucumbers :: Personal Narrative Writing

Sea-CucumbersI have constantly found sea-cucumbers to be strange. If you have ever been snorkeling, you whitethorn or may not have noticed these elongated vegetables on the sea floor. I suppose I shouldnt call them vegetables though, because they are slightly more(prenominal) cognizant than garden-variety greenery. Instead I have dubbed them ocean-turds, because honestly, they do look the bulky defecation of a marine mammoth. They are also well-shaped, perfectly rounded turds at that I am rambling again. Forgive me.In 8th grade, my parents and I took a trip to Japan. My dad is a baseball scout, and kind of of flying over solo to give the Kyoto Carps the once-over, he decided to garner the scout into a family vacation. I was skeptical. I dont homogeneous seafood, and here we are, going to a country that eats raw angle and that names its baseball teams after blunt-nosed marine life.The city itself seemed a bouleversement of twenty-four hour period and night. Humanitys great i nvention, the lightbulb, mocked with overwhelming voltage, density, and quantity natures celestial fireballs. Bulbs, the imitators, the pupils of fusion, now ridiculed night with flashes from across the spectrum. As we drove into Tokyo, I couldnt believe that its citizens were able to sleep at night, what with such bright pollution. But I was eager to walk the streets, to run into the shops that beckoned to me with signs for Sony and with gadgetry that inhabited the parade windows. The hotel fashion had paper walls As an Ameri fundament used to a rooms noiseless seclusion, I liked the idea that here, rooms were not meant to be space with a relentless fixation on privacy. I promptly made my mark. Restless after the long plane flight, I was bouncing off the walls when I literally poked an extremity by one. You can image my surprise at discovering such fragility. I am in the holy land of ninjas and samurai, and I have just punched my way through a wall. Awesome I felt like the kid from Karate Kid. all that was missing was the exotic, ruminative twang and non-western modality of Asian music. Of course, my ninjas-and-gadgets glorification of the channelise was, alas, not meant to be. My fun and games had to be extinguished a foot had to be put down and that foot was Japans ooey-gooey cuisine. My dad was elicit in one of the Carps players, and as was customary, the teams owner felt a strong sense of duty to chance upon us out for a traditional Japanese dinner, so that the 2 of them could discuss arrangements for the trade.