Read Online Japanese Slang by Peter Constantine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Peter Constantine
Ads: Link
and hope to hit the jackpot.
The careful platform pro, however, will stand back and watch the passengers alight from the train. His sixth sense tells him who is the perfect victim or hakoagari (box descender), and on seeing him will immediately barge his way through the crowd. This stalking of victims on platforms is known as hori.
As the crowd begins to disperse, a second group of thieves jumps into action. These are the hakonori (box riders), hakotsukai (box users), hakoshi (box specialists), nagabakoshi (long-box specialists), kanebakoshi (money-box specialists), and hakogayoi (box transcenders). They spot the well-dressed victims on the platform and follow them onto the train. In Japanese criminal jargon the train is always treated as a box. Hako (box) and its backward version koha, kanebako (money box), nagabako (long box), gomibako (trash can), and among older criminal riders even shamisen, the traditional box-like string instrument.
Victims come in all shapes. The nemu, gaisha (from higaisha, âvictimâ), and doroku (road number six) are the easiest marks. They are obviously not Tokyoites; they brandish their wallets, count their yen notes in full view of the platform sharks, and leave briefcases and luggage leaning against a stanchion while they go shopping for last-minute snacks. The drawback is that this type of prey does not usually carry anything worth stealing. One niche up is the victim who at first glance looks provincial and not worth robbing, but on closer scrutiny shows definite signs of hidden wealth. Pickpockets give this type of passenger the ethnic Korean name poniwata. Another eligible victim is characterized as honkai (true purchase) and honke (true home); a clear outline of the bulging wallet in a trouser pocket can be seen from a distance. The best victims are nukui (warm), namahaku (cash vomiters), and norikin (riding gold). Lost, confused, and provincial, they stand on platforms blinking at the electronic arrival and departure screens, big wads of yen notes practically falling out of their pockets.
â¢Â   Asoko ni tatteru gaisha o neratte miru ka?
Shall we go for that easy mark standing over there?
â¢Â   Aitsu wa mikake wada ga, poniwata ni chigain!
That guy looks like shit, but he's definitely loaded!
â¢Â   Oi, miro yo! Ano honkai nogasu beki ja nze.
Yo! Don't let that true purchase get away!
â¢Â   Y! Maita na! Kory! Mare ni miru norikin da ze!
Ooh, man, yeaaah! That guy there's a rare riding gold.
The final minutes before the train pulls out of the station are charged with fervid anticipation. The train jostler's nimble eye glazes as he culls and reculls allthe eligible victims, hastily weighing the pros and cons of following them onto the train. The victim that he finally places his faith in is called toku (the beneficial one).
The final announcements roll over the loudspeaker. The warning sounds, the doors are about to close, and passengers bustle on the platform. The thief's heart begins to flutter.
â¢Â   Oil Tanomu kara! Kono densha ni notte kure yo n, toku-san y!
Oh please, please! Please ride this train, Mr. Beneficial One!
The glorious moment in which the victim picks up bags and briefcases and steps onto the train is designated in platform jargon as iwai (celebration). Relieved, the happy thief climbs on board and the electronic doors close behind him.
The platform pros are not the only thieves to run for the train. The okinagashi (those who put and flow) climb on a local at one station, grab bags and coats, cameras and camcorders, and then jump off at the following station. In the meantime, the tanashi (shelf specialists) clean out the racks above the seats, while the bataoi, minz, bega, suka, and gyta steer clear of bags and cases, and go picking from pocket to pocket. When thieves meet colleagues on trains they cordially avoid each other's turf, and the cars are carefully split into thievery arenas.
The careful platform pro, however, will stand back and watch the passengers alight from the train. His sixth sense tells him who is the perfect victim or hakoagari (box descender), and on seeing him will immediately barge his way through the crowd. This stalking of victims on platforms is known as hori.
As the crowd begins to disperse, a second group of thieves jumps into action. These are the hakonori (box riders), hakotsukai (box users), hakoshi (box specialists), nagabakoshi (long-box specialists), kanebakoshi (money-box specialists), and hakogayoi (box transcenders). They spot the well-dressed victims on the platform and follow them onto the train. In Japanese criminal jargon the train is always treated as a box. Hako (box) and its backward version koha, kanebako (money box), nagabako (long box), gomibako (trash can), and among older criminal riders even shamisen, the traditional box-like string instrument.
Victims come in all shapes. The nemu, gaisha (from higaisha, âvictimâ), and doroku (road number six) are the easiest marks. They are obviously not Tokyoites; they brandish their wallets, count their yen notes in full view of the platform sharks, and leave briefcases and luggage leaning against a stanchion while they go shopping for last-minute snacks. The drawback is that this type of prey does not usually carry anything worth stealing. One niche up is the victim who at first glance looks provincial and not worth robbing, but on closer scrutiny shows definite signs of hidden wealth. Pickpockets give this type of passenger the ethnic Korean name poniwata. Another eligible victim is characterized as honkai (true purchase) and honke (true home); a clear outline of the bulging wallet in a trouser pocket can be seen from a distance. The best victims are nukui (warm), namahaku (cash vomiters), and norikin (riding gold). Lost, confused, and provincial, they stand on platforms blinking at the electronic arrival and departure screens, big wads of yen notes practically falling out of their pockets.
â¢Â   Asoko ni tatteru gaisha o neratte miru ka?
Shall we go for that easy mark standing over there?
â¢Â   Aitsu wa mikake wada ga, poniwata ni chigain!
That guy looks like shit, but he's definitely loaded!
â¢Â   Oi, miro yo! Ano honkai nogasu beki ja nze.
Yo! Don't let that true purchase get away!
â¢Â   Y! Maita na! Kory! Mare ni miru norikin da ze!
Ooh, man, yeaaah! That guy there's a rare riding gold.
The final minutes before the train pulls out of the station are charged with fervid anticipation. The train jostler's nimble eye glazes as he culls and reculls allthe eligible victims, hastily weighing the pros and cons of following them onto the train. The victim that he finally places his faith in is called toku (the beneficial one).
The final announcements roll over the loudspeaker. The warning sounds, the doors are about to close, and passengers bustle on the platform. The thief's heart begins to flutter.
â¢Â   Oil Tanomu kara! Kono densha ni notte kure yo n, toku-san y!
Oh please, please! Please ride this train, Mr. Beneficial One!
The glorious moment in which the victim picks up bags and briefcases and steps onto the train is designated in platform jargon as iwai (celebration). Relieved, the happy thief climbs on board and the electronic doors close behind him.
The platform pros are not the only thieves to run for the train. The okinagashi (those who put and flow) climb on a local at one station, grab bags and coats, cameras and camcorders, and then jump off at the following station. In the meantime, the tanashi (shelf specialists) clean out the racks above the seats, while the bataoi, minz, bega, suka, and gyta steer clear of bags and cases, and go picking from pocket to pocket. When thieves meet colleagues on trains they cordially avoid each other's turf, and the cars are carefully split into thievery arenas.
Similar Books
