Have a beer, on you! OR Terms of Embeerment

Right, so I haven't finished talking about Sunday yet. After church some friends and their friends happened to be in the same neighborhood so we met up. On our way to do a little sightseeing, we met a Japanese guy who recognized one of my friend's friends from college. It is extra wacky because said friend was visiting from Canada at the time. So our number increased by one more, as the Japanese dude joined us. As we were walking he said, "I saw YOU today too, at church." Crazy stuff, especially in a city of about 10 million people.

After the sightseeing part was over, we went to dinner. Okonomiyaki. Think of pancake batter with a lot of cabbage and some meat in it, cooked then covered with a Japanese sauce and mayonnaise. Yummy. Then we proceeded to one of our favorite bars. By some miracle there was room for all six of us to sit side by side at the counter. But I still ended up talking to strangers instead. I have a tendency to do that. There were three Marines who were out letting off some steam for the night. I didn't talk to them much, but they didn't know the town, and we were all planning to go to a big party next, so I mentioned it to them. They were keen to join, so now we were nine. I was actually torn between catching the last train home and staying out, but since everyone seemed up for the party I decided to go with the flow. Perhaps Japan is teaching me about conformity. But as we were walking, the five people I was with originally ALL decided to go home instead of to the party. OK, no problem. Except that I had already told the Marine guys that I would show them a cool place. So I couldn't go home until the NEXT DAY.

Fine, fine, I think, nothing I can do about it now, so I will just make the best of it. Should still be fun. After a bit of walking, a rather boisterous taxi ride, and a trip to the convenience store, we finally made it to the club. One of my Japanese friends had invited me, saying that even though it was Sunday it would be a huge party. She was mistaken. The club had already closed. I dislike poorly written fliers.... So I told my new companions that we had been misinformed, but that I would do my best to take them to some cool bars, at least.

The ten minute walk to the next venue took more like thirty, because one of the three was randomly entering any place that looked like it might be in any way sexual in nature. So of course we had to wait for him to give up or get kicked out. When I realized what was happening I told him no more detours. I think the other two wanted to tell him that, too, but he outranked them.

This is getting long. I am getting tired of typing it. So from here I shall condense. First bar: Mr. Detour very social, his friends very chill, my Japanese friend arrives, we chat, I am thinking ugh 5 more hours of this. We get ready to move on to another spot, but first Mr. Detour has to add to his collection of beer glasses from bars they have visited that night. Apparently he talked the bartender into giving him one, because he walked out drinking from it. Later he puts it into his bag which is already full of similar items, most of which were, I think, obtained legally.

Next bar: Bartender and Mr. Detour do not get along. Mr. D asks me directions to the train station. I refuse to tell him because he is now in the advanced stages of drunk-think, and there are no trains for hours. One of his friends, who has been thanking me repeatedly for my patience, does so again and says not to worry, he will take care of him. I believe him and return to my seat. Meanwhile my Japanese friend informs me that Mr. D has busy hands. I solve this problem by telling him that her father is in the Japanese mafia and thus she is better left alone. This strategy is effective until Mr. D forgets what I had said, but by then he and his friends are leaving to find a hotel anyway.

I don't have a problem with Marines in particular or with the three young men from Sunday night. They all seemed like nice enough guys. I even gave Mr. D my hat, because his bald head was cold. So was mine, but I didn't really like the hat that much anyway. I enjoyed much of the time simply because it was an experience, but I was irritated at times by the effects of too much alcohol consumption and by feeling responsible for these three guys. But all in all, no regrets.

Still 3 hours plus until there is a train home. So we start talking to three Japanese guys sitting near us. Rapport is built. Trust is established. Magic tricks are performed. Next thing we know, we are all getting into a taxi to somewhere. It turns out one of the three guys has a bar. So he takes us there. It is a little out of the way, but it is great! Good atmosphere, nice people, and it has karaoke! And on top of that we were his guests so everything was free (although we still paid a little bit when we left).

I am drinking very slowly because I don't want to sleep all day Monday, but I am having fun just talking and observing. At one point I stand up and my jacket knocks a cocktail onto the floor. Oops. The master, our friend who brought us there, comes and kneels down to clean it up, saying not to worry and that it happens all the time. Of course I feel bad, but I know it's not the end of the world. I try to get out of the way so he can have room to deal with the mess, but in the process somehow manage to knock a full mug of beer onto the floor, all over his head and suit, and all over a girl sitting nearby that I don't even know.

Apart from apologizing profusely I don't know what I can do. After getting cleaned up both of my victims are still in good spirits and don't seem upset at all. But I am still so embarrassed and ashamed, so I ask if there is anything I can do to make up for my idiocy. The girl says yes there is, and asks me to sing Backstreet Boys. I say that I can do that, but wouldn't she rather hear ANYTHING else? So she settles for "Bad" by Michael Jackson, "Without You" by Mariah Carey, and the theme song to a Korean TV drama, in Korean. Not only was she placated, but by the time all was said and done we had talked for quite a while and she and her friend promised to email me. She kept her promise and said we should all go out again sometime. I wonder if next time she will choose an outfit that is beer-resistant?

Birthday, Baldness, Bicycles, Buses, Beer

Yesterday was my half-birthday. I turned 30.5. Since my birthday is in August, I was never able to celebrate with my friends while in school, so I started commemorating my half-birthday in college. I think some people who remember my half-birthday actually don't know when my real birthday is unless they do the math. Others, including most of my family, don't know either but they can get the month right, usually. That's good enough for me.

In other news, I have no hair.

Except on my face. And my chest, arms, legs.... I mean I have no hair on my head. I shaved it. And just for the record I would like to say that I did it before Brittney.

Last Friday I began my new fitness club membership with a vigorous workout before going to teach in the morning. I was feeling energized and admittedly a bit proud of myself when I walked outside. But those feelings were soon replaced with irritation and disappointment. My bicycle was gone. Either stolen or impounded by the city for parking on the sidewalk. I don't know yet which one. This is probably the fourth time Japan has taken one of my bicycles. But it will be the first time I pay the $25 U.S. to get one back. That is, if in fact it was the city that took it. And yes, it was locked. So I had to walk to work and then back home, but oh well.

Then on Saturday night I did the almost unthinkable. I stayed home. I wanted to get up early and try a new church on Sunday. It was really hard for me, but somehow I managed. I stepped out into the frigid morning at about the same time I would usually be coming home on a Sunday. I rode my mountain bike, since my other bicycle is M.I.A., and proceeded promptly to wreck it. To add to the fun, I was almost hit by a taxi in the process. The rain had made the streets really slick--a fact that I did not notice until I tried to make a fast left turn against traffic onto a one-way street. The taxi driver and passengers were not amused, even though I tried to be, uh, funny about it. Cold, hard stares of derision. Anyway, the chain was off my bike so I had to push it the rest of the way. I parked at the place where I work in order to avoid losing another two-wheeled friend to bureaucracy. I finally got to the train station, rode to the stop nearest the church, and then walked to the place where the shuttle buses come. I was two minutes late. No bus came. So I went to a coffee shop and read for an hour or so and then walked back down the hill to wait for either of two shuttles to the next service. I was 15 minutes early and waited an extra 15 minutes after the scheduled arrival time, but no bus came. So I went back home. Fortunately I made it to another church in the afternoon. But that's not really the point of this story. The point is: Grrrr.

But some good news is that, thanks to Valentine's Day, I now have lots of chocolate, my iPod still works after all (I was worried it might be broken), and bald is beautiful.

Sometime in the next few days I suppose I will write about the rest of Sunday, and how spilling beer all over a girl is a good way to start a conversation.

Really, it works. If she still talks to you, she is probably really worth getting to know. If she doesn't, well you probably just saved yourself a lot of time.