Episode 8: The World Needs More Breakdancing Lawyers

My cultural sensitivity meter is about to take a hit.

“So, are you from Hawai'i?” I ask.

“No, Portland. It's alright; I get that a lot.”

The air still isn't up to the warmth I expect for an April, but the sun shines brightly on Trombley Square. Mike and I sit down on the red bricks. Sure, I could have walked around the town of Forest Grove or jumped the bus and hit the city looking for a stranger. But it occurs to me: how many strangers do we see all the time? Evey day? I sit in University classes for months next to people I never know, names I can barely keep in my head once we're all dismissed.

So Mike, you're it. I think I should be forgiven for a Hawai'ian assumption. He is Japanese, with short black hair thinned and spiked; not long ago he had it bleached blonde. Around Pacific University, it's a decent bet someone like that is from the islands. His speech has the laidback wandering quality I've grown accustomed to over the last two years, although he does lack the lilting, almost questioning tone I pick up a lot in the Hawai'ian accent.

“I'm from Portland,” he says. “Like metro-side, not downtown. It's more, you know, southside. Are you from here?”

“No,” I laugh. “Texas.”

“Oh, well I don't know if you know the high schools...”

I shake my head.

We're not a whole lot alike at first glance. T-shirts and jeans for me, duct tape holding one battered, generic brand tennis shoe together. Mike has unscuffed but slightly faded Nike tennis shoes, to compliment the Nike socks and Nike sports shorts hanging just below the knee. There is no trademark swish on his t-shirt, just a black explosion with the words “Sunset Fevertym” in neon colors.

“It's my high school breakdancing team,” he explains. “I did six years of tennis. My mom wanted me to get into something, you know, so I wouldn't do drugs or any of that stuff. There was soccer. Then I did tennis, my brother too. I was pretty good in the northwest. I was just like a few steps from national level. You can go to Texas or Florida or somewhere. But then I just quit. It wasn't my passion any more.”

I take notes all over the place. Little scribbles dot the page, and lines with arrows crowd the space to fit what matters together.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

“No, no; go ahead. I'm just scribbling.”

“Okay,” he says. “So I got into breakdancing in high school. At first, you know, some guys were doing it and it was fun, but then there was a performance at high school, a talent show. I got up there and it felt good. It was my second passion. It gave me confidence. I could be more myself when I started. Four of us made a team, the rest were just like posers.”

I asked what he was majoring in. As a freshman, he was hovering between two choices.

“Well, I wanted to do Psychology, but maybe Environmental Science. I'm thinking more environmental science now. It has more to with the law, and I want to be a lawyer.”

Frankly, I'm all for it. The world needs more breakdancing lawyers.