Thinking isn’t enough these days

Hypothesis: I do not exist.

Evidence: Japanese people don’t respond to me on even the most basic, fundamental, spatial cognition-level.

These days it seems all the freakin’ time, I’m just walking down the street, down an aisle, across a room, through a train car, whatever, and people won’t even move one inch centimeter to give me enough room to pass by. Apparently I’ve become invisible. Or perhaps I’ve died, but I don’t realize it yet, like in The 6th Sense.

Seeing as I am no longer extant, I clearly don’t need a table or chair in order to eat my lunch. Observe me eating my ソースかつ丼 while standing in the corner by the vending machine like a good 優しい動物:

You see in the cafeteria, groups of two, or sometimes even single individuals, will happily claim an entire table (usually a 4-seater) for themselves. That means that the cafeteria, even when absolutely filled to the brim, is only actually running at half-capacity. If it were fat Americans pulling these shenanigans that would be one thing—Americans are stupid, and don’t know better—but these are slim, dare I say in some cases nubile, young Japanese college students. If that doesn’t spell 人種差別, I don’t know what does.