Monday, February 28, 2005

People, Places, Things & Ideas

Saturday Night. Perhaps against my better judgment I followed my herd instinct to meet some acquaintances at a bar, after a very long day of work. Fortunately my second wind arrived after sleeping on the train en route. And, despite the fact that I have no sense of direction, I somehow managed to locate the place I was seeking. Before I even got there two Japanese who were also on the way started talking to me as we crossed the street. One of them said she had seen me somewhere before. Keep in mind this is in a city the size of Los Angeles. Odd. The whole night went like that, actually. Well, night and morning. But I am getting ahead of myself.

The bar was pretty mellow, actually, which made me glad because my second wind was fast becoming a light breeze. I sat at the bar and ordered a drink with my random new crosswalk pals. While I was waiting for my American friend, I noticed that someone who isn't my friend was there too. OK, that was true of almost everyone at the time. So this person would be more like, the anti-friend. That is too strong, actually. Let's just say the last time I talked to him his arrogance made it hard to breathe. But he came to the bar and I made polite conversation and this time he was actually pretty decent. He went away, and I chatted a bit with the bartenders. Nice folks, all. Finally my friend arrived. I mentioned him before as the larger-than-me American with whom I encountered super duper placist-racist man. No sooner had my friend taken his seat next to me than he started laughing and hitting me on the shoulder, pointing. "I don't believe it! That's the guy!" And indeed it was. Irish and Israeli hater had come. And the next thing we knew he was apologizing for his behavior of two weeks ago. Call me unforgiving, but despite his improved conduct, I was not unhappy to see him move on. How is it that, in this huge city of millions of people, the ones I least want to meet seem to have a way of finding me? On this night it took a total of about 15 minutes. So very strange.

Next was a guy I am just getting to know from Germany, who has two Ph.Ds and can speak five languages, including very good Japanese. He is only 32, I think. I went to meet him to show him where the place was, but not before just barely making it to the McDonald's second floor restroom. I was dancing with myself. Oh oh oh oh. Another 10 seconds or so and I think I would have been intentionally spilling something on myself to cover my, uh, embarrassment. Sometimes I feel obligated to buy something in this situation, when a restaurant restroom comes to the rescue. But being that it was McDonalds, I was not affected by any such concern. Refreshed and relieved, I soon found my friend, talking on the phone while two Japanese men stared at him and talked about his Japanese prowess. He was, in fact, using great Japanese, but not only that. He was speaking in what is known to some as "the waiter voice." I could tell immediately that he was talking to someone female, and likely attractive in his eyes. When he hung up I asked him, and he told me it was a sixteen-year old girl he had met at a party in Tokyo. Apparently they have developed a relationship that consists almost solely of exchanging R-rated personal experiences over the phone. People never cease to surprise me. Possibly for the better, our conversation about that went nowhere because McDonalds (yes, again) took priority. This time the purpose was withdrawal, not deposit. My friend required nourishment, and for whatever reason he felt McDonalds was the place to get it. So I gave in and had a hamburger too. As we dined he told me about his arrival at the train station. According to him, he was about to go upstairs to the street when he heard a girl screaming and crying. He followed the sound to a dark corner where he found a Japanese guy and girl maybe in their early twenties. The guy was punching her repeatedly in the face. Germany intervened, and though obviously not happy about it, the guy withdrew without further contact. After making sure the girl was relatively OK, Germany continued his journey and it was less than an hour later that we met. Whatever I thought about his telephone habits, I was impressed by this latest tale. Having finished his French fries, the big German and I walked on. He informed me that it was his intention to drink copious amounts of alcohol, to ease the pain of a teeth-whitening procedure he had underwent that day.

So we went to the bar, we talked, and we left (after a brief scare of being followed to the next locale by p-r man). Outside the bar I met two guys from India and a Japanese guy, and soon the six of us were headed for our next destination, though none of us quite knew what or where it was. After an hour or so of not uneventful meandering, we surrendered to our contingency plan, which was another bar/club. Met some more people outside and chatted for a while, then went in. For the sake of brevity (though it is obviously too late for that) I shall condense: we drank, talked, met people, lost each other, danced a bit, found each other, I got my face painted (I still have purple on the sides of my right thumbnail), I bumped into a friend of a friend, and I met the guy who plays Frankenstein at Universal Studios Japan (or something like that). My big American friend came around at about 4:00 a.m. saying he was ready to go and wanted to know if I was keen to join. At that point I was all for a change in scenery. So he, I, and two girls he had been talking to before went to a 24-hour restaurant.

Apparently he and one of the girls had been dancing together and getting along quite well. But as we sat in the restaurant the language barrier, not to mention the difference in age (she ten years his senior) became apparent. Perhaps realizing there was not much of a future in this, my friend fell asleep on the table and soon started snoring, though not too loudly. The friend of his friend followed suit, though her volume was more impressive, especially considering her petite stature. So there I was, at 5:00 in the morning, making conversation with the remaining conscious person at our table, raising my voice only slightly to talk over the stereo-snoring. (See photo on upper right.) After about ten minutes of small talk, Friend's friend's friend woke up, her lucidity returned, and just in time for the show. For not long after that, Friend woke up with a start and indicated his desire to get up from the table. I got up to accommodate, assuming he needed to use the restroom. But he walked in the opposite direction, to an area of empty tables at the back of the restaurant, about 5 meters away, pulled a chair into the aisle, and sat down with his back turned to all. He had assumed a pose resembling that of "The Thinker," but he was in fact to become "The Puker."

After an impressive round of dry heaves to signal the nearing end of the spectacle, he returned to his previous pose. It soon became clear that it was to be on my shoulders to handle the situation. And in retrospect, I think I did OK. First I had his "date" write her e-mail address and phone number down for him on her cardboard drink coaster. Then I ushered the ladies to the door, explaining that at this point it would be better if he did not have to face them, and bid them a simultaneous good night and good morning. Next, I went to my friend and asked if he was going to be OK, and if he was, er, finished. I told him just to grab his coat and leave, again to reduce his embarrassment as well as that of the unfortunate ones working there, who I am sure did not want to talk to him anyway at that point. As he was getting himself together and meekly making his way out the door, I paid for our breakfasts, apologized profusely, and then asked how to get to the nearest train station. I must say the restaurant staff, though unimpressive in service, more than made up for it with their graciousness on this early Sunday morning. Got my friend to the train, got myself home, and slept like a baby. And if anyone is wondering, the fire engine did not disturb my slumber, nor did any dancing people with grey-haired crowns of splendour. I woke up feeling fine, having experienced life and people in new and exciting ways.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I know I proclaimed one of your earlier posts "best post ever" but I have to say that this might truly be your piece d'resistance. I did want to know about the fire engine and you even managed to throw in the waiter voice! Incredible!

Heather said...

very good post! i like how you write about the culture there.

it's funny that it is similar to my evening (in halifax, nova scotia) on saturday, except it was my neighbour puking in a snowbank, not in a resturant...lol...

Justine said...

thanks! this post kept me entertained at work for almost 15 minutes!!!

Hack said...

Pleased to know that my labours are of value to someone. Just took a look at your blog, Justine. A trifle envious of all the comments, germane or not. But wouldn't want to call my non- or seldom posting readers lazy, as that might serve simply to annoy rather than motivate. There is sometimes a fine line between incendiary and incentive. So I'll go with busy and bashful.