There was this real bastard that I went to school with. I’ll never forget how he was bragging around the fifth grade or so how he had his name legally changed to something very feminate. He was one of the meaner kids, always picking on me and the like, kicking me in the ass when I was bent over to get some things out of the bottom of my locker, stuff like that. I’ll never forget the last conversation that we had. It was in Grade 11 or so, we were screwing around instead of doing our math assignments, and talk soon turned to what to do after graduation. I said something like, “Well, don’t you want to travel? Don’t you want to go anywhere?” He said, “Like where?” I said, “Well, I don’t know, like New York City.” He looked at me with horror. “New York City?” he said. “Are you nuts? With all the crime and stuff that goes on there? As soon as you get off the plane, you’d get mugged! You’d get your ass kicked in some dark alley. And Mark, you’re also so gay, that if you ever go to New York, you’d probably be raped. DON’T LAUGH AT ME! It’d probably happen…to you. So, fuck, I’m never going to New York.” So now, whenever I’m walking the streets of Tokyo, I can’t help but laugh at him.