In Alabama a man said "Roll Tide" to me as a greeting.
Later that same day, the same man said "Roll Tide" as a goodbye.
I asked a woman at the store what it means.
She said, "Roll Tide."
I asked what it means.
She said, "It means Roll Tide, sugar."
So I began collecting evidence. I kept a list. I am not embarrassed about the list.
I have now heard "Roll Tide" used as: hello. Goodbye. Thank you. I am sorry. Congratulations. That is unfortunate. I agree. I disagree. And once, in a hardware store, as a complete set of instructions for installing a ceiling fan.
I heard it said at a funeral.
It was appropriate. It was the most appropriate thing anyone said that day.
I began using it. Carefully at first, the way a man handles a borrowed sword.
I said it to a cashier. She said it back.
I said it to a police officer who had stopped me for a broken taillight.
He looked at me for a long moment. He looked at my face. He looked at my taillight.
Then he said it back, and nodded once, and did not write the ticket.
I wish to be extremely clear that I am not claiming those two events are related.
I am also not claiming they are unrelated.
A man at a gas station heard my accent and asked where I was from. I told him Japan.
He said, "Roll Tide."
He meant welcome. I knew he meant welcome. There was no ambiguity at all.
I have been in Alabama eleven days.
I have one word.
It has been enough for everything.
I have started saying it in other states.
It does not work in other states.
I said it in a warehouse store in Oregon. One man turned around.
He was from Alabama. He said it back. We did not speak after that. We did not have to.
I say it anyway.
how could anime lie to me… where is my big breasted onee-san… my flat chested twin tailed imouto… the hot alcoholic teacher that tries to groom me… this life is not daijoubu…
I went to In-N-Out and ordered a cheeseburger. The cashier, a calm young woman named Destiny, asked me a question I did not expect.
"You want that Animal Style?"
I paused.
I did not know what this meant. But a samurai does not admit he does not know. So I answered with weight.
"...Animal Style."
"Cool. So that's mustard-grilled, extra spread, grilled onions, pickles. Yeah?"
I understood now. This was a sacred permission. For one meal, I was being told to put down my manners at the door. To eat the way a beast eats, without shame. I had waited my whole life for someone to give me this order.
"Yes," I said. "I will become the animal."
Destiny did not blink. "...Okay. You want your fries Animal Style too?"
I stopped. Even the potatoes?
"The potatoes also become animals?"
"I mean, they get cheese and sauce and grilled onions, so..."
"Then yes. Let the potatoes abandon their restraint as well."
"...Got it." She was the calmest woman I have ever met. "3x3, 4x4, or just the one?"
I did not know these numbers, but I knew a challenge when I heard one. "How many must I face?"
"It's, like, how many patties you want."
"How many is the most honorable?"
"...Four is a lot."
"Then four. A warrior does not ask for fewer."
She wrote it down without argument. A 4x4, Animal Style, with animal fries. She warned me once, kindly. "That's gonna be huge." I told her I was counting on it.
It arrived. It was a tower. Cheese and sauce ran down my hands the moment I lifted it. There was no clean way to eat it. There was no dignified way. That was the entire point.
I ate it like a beast. Both hands, no honor, grilled onion on my chin, and I have to be honest with you, it was the best thing I have ever put in my mouth.
For thirty years I have kept my manners at every table in the world.
They handed me a burger and told me to be an animal, and I have never felt so free.
So tell me, America.
The whole country knows the secret menu. What else are you hiding in plain sight?
And "Animal Style." Was I eating the animal, or finally becoming one?
if you can hold 3 jobs, hit a few perfect trades, keep expenses low and then nail that parlay you can live the lifestyle of a moderately successful plumber in the 1970s