So there I was, all that kept me from strangling the crazy Russian Naruto-fans the fragile restraint of my seatbelt.
My Russian is limited to three words, two of them a deadly insult, and their English was, well, accented. Their Nihonlish had a much better accent but a rather small accent. Such are the woes of living in a multi-ethnic society. I suppose I couldn't blame them, the three of them having learnt English from school and the internet, which is mostly populated by Americans.
I could probably have forgiven the obsession with Naruto - I'm very fond of the series myself. But their obsession with certain characters...
It was well for the future Village of Hidden Asteroid that (of all the ninja arts) they were focused on taijutsu. After all, the arts of manipulating chakra remain in their 'burning youth' even to this day. The use of fists, feet and sharp implements are easier to learn.
But you do remember who the taijutsu specialists were in the source material, don't you?
Given my early experience of the proto-ninja nation, those who know of it sometimes wonder why I didn't join them when I kicked the dirt off my feet full time. The answer is that I have spent almost ten hours trapped in a smallish space with Ivan 'Maito-vich' Solkin and two of his students (and much more time later, but I'm getting ahead of myself again). And I never want to risk experiencing that again. (Plus, he occasionally calls me his Kakashi. I really don't want to know what he means about that).
It was with a certain relief that I managed to make my way to the one of the space stations that had begin to spring up across the solar station. Utopia Planetia 7 was the current base of the Trekkies who had made it this far, and if a little straitlaced for me, they were as hospitable as I had heard, albeit not the universes' greatest engineers. (The reason for Utopia Planetia 7 was somewhat similar to the reasoning behind Babylon 5 but didn't involve bombs or time travel).
The station was experiencing a little difficulty with it's docking bays so we had to board using space suits. Fortunately, all three of the wouldbe-shinobi had brought theirs with them. I tried very hard not to watch Maito-vich and the other bloke getting into their suits and they were careful to ensure that I didn't get a look at the girl when she was getting into hers. All three suits were green spandex and fell into the class of 'skinsuits', although they then festooned them with ninja gear of questionable provenance. Mine was a bit bulkier, having been made out of some snow gear, and was thus not quite as cold as theirs (although since we were passing through space with a temperature of absolute zero, they had to be fairly good at maintaining an internal temperature).
Inside I passed the three of them off to the local leaders, got patted on the back for the rescue and went off to look around. Fortunately the local Captain had time to give a noob space traveller a few tips, the first of which was that I probably shouldn't go home just yet as the Russians were really very unhappy with me. The second was that right at the moment, costs were a mite higher for little things like food than I could afford if I was to hang around here for a few weeks.
The solution was for me sign to up with one of the asteroid mining crews. This was still a very new industry at the time - I'd be joining the fifth group ever (sixth actually, word hadn't reached UP7 about one), but they would organise food and the like, taking the costs out of my share of the profits of the operation. It would have the advantage of taking me out of sight for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months and make me a bit of cash (always welcome). And as I had my own transport, I'd get a better share of the profits than I would if I had to get a lift out to the Belt. The only downside was that I'd only got a week or so away from work, so I'd have to quit my job.
So I made some bullshit excuses via email, resigned, effective of my holiday running out, and called one of my multitude of cousins, with instructions to keep an eye on my house for a little while.
Then I made ready to go out to the Belt and earn my living in a new and doubtless tedious fashion. Can you guess which new and transportless fellow miners hitched a ride with me? I'll give you a hint: they were all Russian...
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
My Russian is limited to three words, two of them a deadly insult, and their English was, well, accented. Their Nihonlish had a much better accent but a rather small accent. Such are the woes of living in a multi-ethnic society. I suppose I couldn't blame them, the three of them having learnt English from school and the internet, which is mostly populated by Americans.
I could probably have forgiven the obsession with Naruto - I'm very fond of the series myself. But their obsession with certain characters...
It was well for the future Village of Hidden Asteroid that (of all the ninja arts) they were focused on taijutsu. After all, the arts of manipulating chakra remain in their 'burning youth' even to this day. The use of fists, feet and sharp implements are easier to learn.
But you do remember who the taijutsu specialists were in the source material, don't you?
Given my early experience of the proto-ninja nation, those who know of it sometimes wonder why I didn't join them when I kicked the dirt off my feet full time. The answer is that I have spent almost ten hours trapped in a smallish space with Ivan 'Maito-vich' Solkin and two of his students (and much more time later, but I'm getting ahead of myself again). And I never want to risk experiencing that again. (Plus, he occasionally calls me his Kakashi. I really don't want to know what he means about that).
It was with a certain relief that I managed to make my way to the one of the space stations that had begin to spring up across the solar station. Utopia Planetia 7 was the current base of the Trekkies who had made it this far, and if a little straitlaced for me, they were as hospitable as I had heard, albeit not the universes' greatest engineers. (The reason for Utopia Planetia 7 was somewhat similar to the reasoning behind Babylon 5 but didn't involve bombs or time travel).
The station was experiencing a little difficulty with it's docking bays so we had to board using space suits. Fortunately, all three of the wouldbe-shinobi had brought theirs with them. I tried very hard not to watch Maito-vich and the other bloke getting into their suits and they were careful to ensure that I didn't get a look at the girl when she was getting into hers. All three suits were green spandex and fell into the class of 'skinsuits', although they then festooned them with ninja gear of questionable provenance. Mine was a bit bulkier, having been made out of some snow gear, and was thus not quite as cold as theirs (although since we were passing through space with a temperature of absolute zero, they had to be fairly good at maintaining an internal temperature).
Inside I passed the three of them off to the local leaders, got patted on the back for the rescue and went off to look around. Fortunately the local Captain had time to give a noob space traveller a few tips, the first of which was that I probably shouldn't go home just yet as the Russians were really very unhappy with me. The second was that right at the moment, costs were a mite higher for little things like food than I could afford if I was to hang around here for a few weeks.
The solution was for me sign to up with one of the asteroid mining crews. This was still a very new industry at the time - I'd be joining the fifth group ever (sixth actually, word hadn't reached UP7 about one), but they would organise food and the like, taking the costs out of my share of the profits of the operation. It would have the advantage of taking me out of sight for a few weeks, maybe a couple of months and make me a bit of cash (always welcome). And as I had my own transport, I'd get a better share of the profits than I would if I had to get a lift out to the Belt. The only downside was that I'd only got a week or so away from work, so I'd have to quit my job.
So I made some bullshit excuses via email, resigned, effective of my holiday running out, and called one of my multitude of cousins, with instructions to keep an eye on my house for a little while.
Then I made ready to go out to the Belt and earn my living in a new and doubtless tedious fashion. Can you guess which new and transportless fellow miners hitched a ride with me? I'll give you a hint: they were all Russian...
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.