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Last month I got a ticket for driving through a school zone during a time when the road was not supposed to be used. I was warned of not performing such an action by the sign shown on the left. Obviously, I should've known better.

The ticket cost me ¥7,000 and I could mail it in. It was not a big deal. It did, however, remind me of that horrible time known only as yesteryear.

Just over a year has passed since it happened. Now, whenever I think about it I end up shaking my head, blinking one eye repeatedly while contorting my face, and bottling it up inside for some unexpecting victim.

In January of 2006, I was driving from my village to Takasaki, the biggest city in the prefecture. It was a sunny Friday afternoon, warm. I was in no particular hurry, but I was still boomeranging my Mitsubishi around switchbacks and vrooming by the rice paddies. After turning onto the nicest stretch of road in all of Japan (read as: wide enough for 2 entire lanes of traffic, and straight enough to be mistaken for a landing strip), I let my genetically heavy right foot get the best of me.

They caught me. They being the police. Caught, meaning I was (allegedly) breaking the law by (allegedly) going 82 kph in a 40 kph zone. And me, meaning me. Waiting on the side of the road, before rolling my window down, I still had an ace up my sleeve. I was going to play the "dumb foreigner" role and get out of this predicament by constantly saying "I don't understand" in Japanese. It should be noted that playing the "dumb foreigner" role could be mistaken for me just acting naturally because of the miniscule amount of Japanese I know and my goofy demeanor.

The plethora of Japanese cops that tended to me (it was a sting operation where there were about 10 cops waiting for law-breaking citizens/foreign residents) knew a handful of English phrases to convey the stupidity of my actions. Phrases like "You dangerous drive fast" and "Sign 40 kilo, you 82 kilo, Americans always" worked against my incessant I-don't-understand-ing. Eventually, I got the ticket, a court date, and an estimation of the impending penalty.

My mandatory court date was chaperoned by my Japanese-speaking supervisor, not a good thing for work relations. It took nearly 2 hours, I made my "statement" via interpreter, and my punishment was given. My punishment: ¥80,000 yen fine and a 30-day suspension of my license. It hurt. Bad.

It was not over yet. The next week my supervisor and I made the trip to the Traffic Center. I took a class in Japanese illustrating good and bad driving techniques. The class lasted all day. I learned that the Japanese term for blind spot can be directly translated to "Death Angle." Also, I was able to use the state-of-the-art driving simulator. Picture a big arcade game: with my supervisor wearing the headphones telling her the directions in Japanese, she directed me (the driver) with English directions. I blame this complicated relaying of directions for why I hit a digitalized grandma crossing the street. Luckily, I wasn't being tested on my simulated driving skills...I could hit anything I wanted. Later, I took the test (in English) and passed. My 30-day license suspension was reduced to only one day. It was great, but it ended up costing me another ¥15,000.

All in all, it was a very cultural experience...one I think everyone should go through. I just wish it didn't cost ¥100,000.