“Some people are in such utter darkness that they will burn you just to see a light. Try not to take it personally.”
― Kamand Kojouri
I witnessed an old man who, during a conversation, suddenly unleashed a scream that could curdle milk. His face was a wild canvas of pain, fear, and something so dark it would make a horror writer take notes. Eyes wide, mouth agape, he looked like he’d just seen his Internet history at a family gathering. His outburst sent shockwaves around the table, serving as a not-so-subtle cry for help—or maybe he just really hated the topic.
Whatever caused that reaction, it looks like I accidentally walked into a situation that was supposed to be private. The tragic truth is, the man couldn’t witness his own face of terror as he let loose that chilling outburst. I almost wish I had a hand-mirror to hold up to him at that moment, so he could see the horror show he was broadcasting live. It might have been a revelation—or at least given him a pause to reflect on his own dramatic performance.
Context:
It was a crisp November day with a sky so blue it seemed painted. I was at a language exchange meetup, a mix of Japanese locals and foreigners eager to learn the language. Among the attendees was the old man.
As I mingled with others in English, the old man at the table’s edge shot me a peculiar look. I should have seen it as a warning. Without warning, he switched seats to sit diagonally across from me.
“Haaiiii, how are you dooooiinggg?” he chimed in a high-pitched voice, his expression slightly odd.
So, I made a slightly negative comment about a Japanese tradition, and it triggered his anger like a faulty car alarm. I suspected he might react, but he went full-on bizarre, like a weird sideshow no one asked for.
Pain, fear, and horror—oh my! I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. The organizer, an Australian lady next to him, screamed not once, but twice, because his reaction was just that off-the-charts strange.
In Japan, some older folks act like they still own the place, stifling the younger generation from voicing their opinions. And he was a prime example of this toxic relic.
If he’d unleashed his meltdown just among the Japanese, he might have been written off as another dementia case. But the real issue was that he decided to air his horror show in front of a bunch of Westerners. Did he honestly think they’d understand his antics, having no clue about this country’s vintage toxicity? Or maybe he was trying to give them a front-row seat to the madness?
Regardless, his live freakout was a resounding success in one way: it perfectly showcased his true essence—a top-tier lunatic.
The days following his meltdown:
Simply put, I stopped attending the meetup like a restaurant customer demanding the check after spotting a cockroach. Yep, check please! Honestly, I ditched the group entirely because the horror show headliner was always on the guest list—yikes!
And for the life of me, I can’t fathom why the Aussie lady kept inviting Mr. Horrorshow to her events. It’s baffling and downright weird.
Eventually, I started my own meetup group, as I’ve mentioned on this blog a number of times. One of the glaringly obvious reasons was to avoid dealing with crazies—seriously, who wants that?
It’s the weekend, a time for people to enjoy whatever they want, not to witness an old man screaming out of nowhere. I mean, what the actual fuck?
Conclusion:
All in all, his chilling outburst was a wake-up call. It used to be believed that as people get older, their personalities mellow out. Really? After witnessing his tragic meltdown, I’m never swallowing that nonsense again.
Who wants to throw a public tantrum in a coffee shop? Not me. And I’m pretty sure I never will.