Four years ago, I was alone in a hotel room in Kyoto. It was the day after an earthquake and tsunami had devastated northeastern Japan, only a few hundred miles away, and I wasn’t keen on sightseeing. I was longing for the comforts of home. I had been in contact with family and friends to let them know that I was okay, but brief phone calls and email tag could only bridge the gap so much from thousands of miles and twelve time zones away.
I had kept up with the news of the disaster constantly, making myself aware of the possibilities of potential aftershocks and/or nuclear fallout. It was informative, but also depressing. Instead of watching repeated footage of communities being washed away by nature’s fury, I sought an escape in the form of a popular television show from back in the States.
That was Glee: Season One.