A Regular Sunday Night
On Sunday, I went up to Guy’s Bar for some sort of “event.” The event was a few DJs and a… dance off. We’ll get to that in due time.
On my way to Guy’s, I stopped to pick up a pack of cigarettes. After opening my wallet, I realized that after buying smokes, I would only have 1400 yen. The cover for the event was 1000 (which thankfully included one drink) and so I went in search of an ATM. However, despite being an entirely cashed based society, Japanese ATMs, I discovered, are not open on Sundays after 7:00pm. It was 8:00pm. Why do the ATMS close? I have no idea, it makes no sense, and it pisses me off, but such is the logic of the country I have come to.
Armed with very little money, I went to Guy’s anyway. Upon entering the bar, I was immediately greeted by about 10 dudes yelling “Steve! Steve! Steve!” Nine of them I do not remember ever meeting, but I guess that’s what happens when you get trashed in Japan. I was hoping I could use my celebrity to obtain free drinks, but that settles itself in a completely different fashion. After the initial greeting, I was left more or less alone in a corner of the bar, listening to bad 80’s techno music. It was just me, my drink, and a wife beater who has been shunned by his friends for exactly that reason. Needless to say, it was awkward at first.
Eventually, the wasted emcee came over to talk to me. As with all the people here, our conversation was incredibly limited, really just him talking Japanese and me nodding and smiling. It was good that I made friends with him though, because in short order he went behind the bar (what he was doing being the bar, I don’t know) and started making me a drink or two. Do I know what was in these drinks? Hell no. I saw him making them, and it reminded me of my days in college. He would just grab bottles at random and pour stuff into a glass. Without a doubt, the concoctions were some of the foulest things ever created, but I will say they got me fucked up quick. Once his generosity ran out, thankfully, my fellow AET was able to hook up with a few drinks and, every so often, I would just randomly get a drink from random person.
My increasing intoxication was necessary to maintain my sanity for what was to come. The “event” kicked off with a pretty young girl singing horribly while a guy dressed in very bad “I want to be ghetto” clothes ran around her rapping. At least I think that’s what he was doing. What was hysterical, though, is that he kept yelling, “Everybody say Ho!” and pausing for audience response. There was none. But, he did not stop trying.
After the singing came the dance off. Now this… well… I want to write about it but really, words just fail me here. I mean, I don’t think I ever laughed so hard in my life. There were three teams of girls, one had two girls, another had three, and the last had 10. I felt already there was an unfair advantage, but I didn’t know the rules of the competition. The music started, and they battled. One group would start dancing together, using elaborate coordinated sequences. I’m pretty sure that the two smaller groups got “served” because they kept forgetting their moves.
Just thinking about the dance fight makes me laugh… I mean, I never figured I would be in a Japanese bar, in the middle of a large crowd, watching a dance fight. Japan has taken me to new and interesting places.
After the battle the dance floor was open. In typical Japanese style, no one except a 40-year-old guy was dancing, and he was doing the robot. So, as I kept drinking more and more, I had a really bad idea. I would show these folks how to bust a move, and I did so in typical horrible, drunk walrus fashion. I joined in doing the robot. It was like a train wreck, and the good people at the bar couldn’t stop watching.
Eventually, I became plastered. I grabbed the skullcap off some random guy I’ve never met before, put it on, went up onto the “stage,” grabbed the microphone off the DJ, and started freestyle rapping. Now, most places in America, I would have only lasted about .01 seconds before I was forcibly removed from the premises. Not here.
I’m frightened because they seemed to love it.
After repeated failed attempts at picking up a girl (I would just walk up to someone and start talking to her in English. There would then be much giggling on her behalf before I would realize she didn’t understand a word I was saying and would move to the next person, usually the girl standing right next to her) I decided to head home.
I lead an interesting life.
On my way to Guy’s, I stopped to pick up a pack of cigarettes. After opening my wallet, I realized that after buying smokes, I would only have 1400 yen. The cover for the event was 1000 (which thankfully included one drink) and so I went in search of an ATM. However, despite being an entirely cashed based society, Japanese ATMs, I discovered, are not open on Sundays after 7:00pm. It was 8:00pm. Why do the ATMS close? I have no idea, it makes no sense, and it pisses me off, but such is the logic of the country I have come to.
Armed with very little money, I went to Guy’s anyway. Upon entering the bar, I was immediately greeted by about 10 dudes yelling “Steve! Steve! Steve!” Nine of them I do not remember ever meeting, but I guess that’s what happens when you get trashed in Japan. I was hoping I could use my celebrity to obtain free drinks, but that settles itself in a completely different fashion. After the initial greeting, I was left more or less alone in a corner of the bar, listening to bad 80’s techno music. It was just me, my drink, and a wife beater who has been shunned by his friends for exactly that reason. Needless to say, it was awkward at first.
Eventually, the wasted emcee came over to talk to me. As with all the people here, our conversation was incredibly limited, really just him talking Japanese and me nodding and smiling. It was good that I made friends with him though, because in short order he went behind the bar (what he was doing being the bar, I don’t know) and started making me a drink or two. Do I know what was in these drinks? Hell no. I saw him making them, and it reminded me of my days in college. He would just grab bottles at random and pour stuff into a glass. Without a doubt, the concoctions were some of the foulest things ever created, but I will say they got me fucked up quick. Once his generosity ran out, thankfully, my fellow AET was able to hook up with a few drinks and, every so often, I would just randomly get a drink from random person.
My increasing intoxication was necessary to maintain my sanity for what was to come. The “event” kicked off with a pretty young girl singing horribly while a guy dressed in very bad “I want to be ghetto” clothes ran around her rapping. At least I think that’s what he was doing. What was hysterical, though, is that he kept yelling, “Everybody say Ho!” and pausing for audience response. There was none. But, he did not stop trying.
After the singing came the dance off. Now this… well… I want to write about it but really, words just fail me here. I mean, I don’t think I ever laughed so hard in my life. There were three teams of girls, one had two girls, another had three, and the last had 10. I felt already there was an unfair advantage, but I didn’t know the rules of the competition. The music started, and they battled. One group would start dancing together, using elaborate coordinated sequences. I’m pretty sure that the two smaller groups got “served” because they kept forgetting their moves.
Just thinking about the dance fight makes me laugh… I mean, I never figured I would be in a Japanese bar, in the middle of a large crowd, watching a dance fight. Japan has taken me to new and interesting places.
After the battle the dance floor was open. In typical Japanese style, no one except a 40-year-old guy was dancing, and he was doing the robot. So, as I kept drinking more and more, I had a really bad idea. I would show these folks how to bust a move, and I did so in typical horrible, drunk walrus fashion. I joined in doing the robot. It was like a train wreck, and the good people at the bar couldn’t stop watching.
Eventually, I became plastered. I grabbed the skullcap off some random guy I’ve never met before, put it on, went up onto the “stage,” grabbed the microphone off the DJ, and started freestyle rapping. Now, most places in America, I would have only lasted about .01 seconds before I was forcibly removed from the premises. Not here.
I’m frightened because they seemed to love it.
After repeated failed attempts at picking up a girl (I would just walk up to someone and start talking to her in English. There would then be much giggling on her behalf before I would realize she didn’t understand a word I was saying and would move to the next person, usually the girl standing right next to her) I decided to head home.
I lead an interesting life.
posted by S A B at 6:27 AM
1 Comments:
How cool that you met a Japanese Rob and a Japanese BJ in the same night!
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