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?

Pre-Puke Stereo Snoring

Pre-puke stereo snoring, originally uploaded by Hack Rambler.

This is a graphic accompaniment to the last post, "People, Places, Things & Ideas." Unfortunately I did not have the presence of mind to get a shot of the main event.

And the winner is....

Friday was a national holiday, so Thursday night I went into the city for the night. As it seems that most Japanese, for whatever reason, don't view the night before a national holiday as an extra night to play, I was hesitant about going out. But a Peruvian friend seemed to have ideas for things to do. Upon arriving, however, I found that he was taking me along to meet a friend at a club where they were conducting "Salsa Night". Unfortunately this was referring to the dance and not the condiment. I don't have anything against Salsa, per se; it's just that I don't know how to do it and the people who go to such events tend to be rather serious about it. I met one girl there who recently quit her job and at the moment does nothing but eat, sleep, and salsa. Or so she said. Anyway I was less than pleased with my friend because he is aware of my aversion and yet said nothing. On the up side, though, I made friends with one of the bartenders, got free drinks, and now I know where I can go if I ever want a good tattoo.

Friday I slept all day and then met students for a "New Year's Party". Seems a little late for that, I reckon, but it was an excuse to drink really bad "refreshingly bitter" beer and talk about everything and nothing in particular.

Saturday evening I tried a new church then went out to dinner with the other four people who attended the meeting. OK, I am exaggerating. There were nine other people, but five of them were conducting the service. It was nice. One Australian girl was explaining why she can't seem to communicate well with Americans (can't understand that accent, and they are so uptight!). Next I met an American friend and a female pal of his at a British pub. It was during this time that I met perhaps the stupidest person I have yet encountered in all my time living in Asia.

Here's what happened: I went to the bar to order a beer, and for no particular reason thanked the bartender in an Irish brogue. Imagine that. Then I went about my business, returning to our table. Keep in mind, now, that I am 6'0" and weigh in at 240 pounds, and my American friend is 6'3" and 240. (The Japanese girl was 5'4" and about 80 pounds, probably, in case you were wondering.) In spite of our peaceful behavior and prominent stature, a rather wiry British person found his way to our quiet little spot and started leering at us/me. He was standing right over me, with an angry look in his eyes and a pint in his hand. So in order to get whatever awkwardness he had planned over with, I said, "Hello", in the most diplomatic tone I could muster. At this point the person in question proceeded to all but challenge me to a fight, stating, "Tonight I hate anyone who speaks with an Irish accent. Because I hate the Irish. All of 'em. And Israelis too. They blah blah blah blah..." Nothing he said warrants repeating. The fact that he was being so openly and rather loudly racist/placist does. Especially considering the fact that we were in a bar full of people from all over the world. One hopes such a fellow, if his thinking remains unchanged, will not procreate. Eventually my friend and I managed to sort of ignore him until he went away, but not before he called me a "worthless Pole" and "an all right guy." The queerest part about it all is that, though he was talking nonsense and being incredibly offensive and rude, he did not appear to have had that much to drink yet. Glad we didn't stick around to witness his progress (regress) over the course of the evening....