the invasion of Japan
Episode 9
i am man, pleased to meet you
Japanese is a wonderful language and probably the easiest language in the world to learn if you have the patience. I have spent most of my time trying to learn as many phrases as I can, but I am still struggling to keep up in a long conversation. The short little things that can get you by, I have down to a science and I feel less like the super ugly American when I use them, but sadly, I am running into more English speaking Japanese, the closer we get to the heart of Tokyo, so I am not getting as much Japanese time in as before, thus I am regressing back into the ugly American again. Fine, I'm dying for BBQ anyway.
The rest of the world sees Americans as braggarts with little to no dignity, no honor and zero education and most of the time, they are dead on. Knowing that they feel this way, I have worked hard to not be the kind of American that other countries would despise, not to improve their opinions of Americans, but to insure safe passage through their country as a possible exception to the rule. However, its not helping my cause when my name means "Man" in Japanese. From the first ten seconds of every relationship in Japan, I am already a cocky bastard just by referring to myself as "the man" in every conversation. (Rock in Japanese means six, so a full introduction sounds like, "I am six men" I am very popular here)
Daniel. It's Daniel. I love my name and have not always been able to use it, so that makes me love it even more. Daniel. It sounds good, and it fits me perfectly. I don't look like much of a Roy or Ted or River. I do wish "Dan" and "Danny" were not options of Daniel and I wish that people didn't know there were options for Daniel and I wish even further that people didn't like to use them when they do know their options, but sadly they can't help but shrink my name. I do so envy the Evans, the Marks and the Jukitos. They have never known the pain I know.
IN TOKYO
The hotel they put me in is a four star hotel located near Roppongi, which is the cultural and international section of Tokyo. Whenever you see Tokyo on television, this is the place they show you first. Roppongi, the district is mostly state of the art bars which accommodate individual nations and fetishes. Everywhere you walk there is a group snapping their fingers and looking cool. Here you find Japan's mods, their Paris Hiltons, their punks, their Elvisi and their scoundrels. Every single one of them looks overtly homosexual and I almost feel like they should sell action fingers for these people because I would buy the whole set.
Also floating Roppongi is the American chain restaurants that suck so much in America that they brought them over here. Chillis, Hard Rock, etc. They are all here and they are all popular. It turns out that the latest rage in Japan is Italian food and pasty/coffee shops, so the American restaurants are taking a beating and perhaps they could close up shop soon, but before you get excited, most Americans stationed over here keep them in business and the likelihood of them really leaving is nil. If it's American, the Japanese will buy it and love it. Just not our electronics. (not one Texas Instruments store anywhere)
The Chief that we met in Yokosuka who took us to the private karoake bar is here and he took us to lunch and gave us the tour of where to go, what to do,what to avoid and how to hit on locals. I tried to explain to him my name dilemma and that the locals find me offensive in everyway an American can be offensive and I am pretty sure that my best efforts would be pretty fruitless and he frowned and agreed that I do have an uphill battle. However, there is a an S&M club and a punk rock bar that sit next to each other in Roppongi and I think that is where I will find myself rotting away for the next two days. Somewhere in that time I have to do a show for Marines and their "girlfriends", but after that, I have 40 hours of me time before I leave for the airport. Beyond the grandness and the thrill of Japan lies the rather dark, unappealing tour of Korea.
The show goes down pretty hard. The opening act bailed out after only 25 minutes of his contracted 45, so I am left to pick up the slack. The audience is a bit thin, but we were told before the show that the US ambassador to Japan, the marine commander of the Pacific fleet, a ton of state department officials and an equally impressive number of marines and everyone's spouse, will be in the building and attending the Marine Corp 230th birthday gala, so security is very, very tight and no one can get in to the building unless they have a super-duper top level security clearance that even James Bond and Jesus don't have. (but, I do) The audience was pretty small is what I am trying to say.
I rocked it. Kept it real clean and made some new friends out the audience. After the show, while hanging out in the smoking lounge (outside of this sweet hotel) I get to meet a lot of the state department officials from the gala and I am trying not to be my curious self around them. They have been trained to detect spies by the number of questions they are asked and the method that is used to ask the questions, so I am doing my best not to ask what anyone does at the embassy or where anyone is from or how long they have worked there, which leaves an introduction pretty much with, "wanna make out or what?". Outside of that, I have nothin'. I wouldn't have asked them anything but a lot of them are hitting on me while they smoke and I have never been in this position before so I am really unsure of what to do. Images of sleeping with the ambassador's wife and having the CIA break in and take me to jail is just too powerful for me to get that turned on by the situation. The ones that don't hit on me have great stories of working in embassies all over the world and I try to enjoy their stories and tell them some of my own, which seems to work. I am surprised that not one person from the state department ever wanted to return to the states, not even for visits or retirement or burial.
The wives that are not hitting on me, decide that they want to take myself and the other comic out to Roppongi to do whatever you do in Roppongi late at night. The women are dressed in ten thousand dollar evening gowns and I am wearing a bright orange flannel shirt and a brown fedora, but turns out to be okay in Roppongi. We have to take four cabs to get us all there and when we arrive, it's madness. Absolute madness. Easily one hundred thousand people, from every nation, dressed in every way, milling around, humping, fighting, screaming, drinking, throwing up, dodging hookers and stumbling over downed buddies that have been left on the sidewalk like refuse. It's a mad house. To add to the insanity, England is playing Australia in a pretty big rugby match and it's airing live in most of the bars here. When England wins, the fights begin. Aussies take rugby pretty seriously and they outnumber every other nationality in Roppongi on any given day so the few Brits that are walking around here are toast. (or crumpet, if you prefer) Of course, the only way to tell if someone is British is to walk up to them, grab them, spin them around and then make them say something, if the accent fits, the fight begins. It was crazy.
I am looking rather Aussie this particular evening, so I am not sweating it, however I'm walking through Roppongi with a rather drunk Mexican that is screaming obscenities into the night air, and fifteen women dressed in ten thousand dollar evening gowns and two state department officials are looking at me like I might be a security risk. It's time to get drunk.
I do not remember how or when I got home, I just remember that I got a call in my room at 10 AM. I still have all of my money but I am clutching a flyer that is advertising animals for sale, I think, and the flyer is designed much the same way that escorts in Vegas have theirs. I do remember that there was a lot of drinking, a lot of strange bar behavior and that I took a cab home alone, even though I have numbers and email addresses in my pocket for different women that I can't picture or remember. Roppongi... It can do that.
I have a full day of Tokyo before I depart, I have a huge list of things to do and it all starts on a subway.
i am man, pleased to meet you
Japanese is a wonderful language and probably the easiest language in the world to learn if you have the patience. I have spent most of my time trying to learn as many phrases as I can, but I am still struggling to keep up in a long conversation. The short little things that can get you by, I have down to a science and I feel less like the super ugly American when I use them, but sadly, I am running into more English speaking Japanese, the closer we get to the heart of Tokyo, so I am not getting as much Japanese time in as before, thus I am regressing back into the ugly American again. Fine, I'm dying for BBQ anyway.
The rest of the world sees Americans as braggarts with little to no dignity, no honor and zero education and most of the time, they are dead on. Knowing that they feel this way, I have worked hard to not be the kind of American that other countries would despise, not to improve their opinions of Americans, but to insure safe passage through their country as a possible exception to the rule. However, its not helping my cause when my name means "Man" in Japanese. From the first ten seconds of every relationship in Japan, I am already a cocky bastard just by referring to myself as "the man" in every conversation. (Rock in Japanese means six, so a full introduction sounds like, "I am six men" I am very popular here)
Daniel. It's Daniel. I love my name and have not always been able to use it, so that makes me love it even more. Daniel. It sounds good, and it fits me perfectly. I don't look like much of a Roy or Ted or River. I do wish "Dan" and "Danny" were not options of Daniel and I wish that people didn't know there were options for Daniel and I wish even further that people didn't like to use them when they do know their options, but sadly they can't help but shrink my name. I do so envy the Evans, the Marks and the Jukitos. They have never known the pain I know.
IN TOKYO
The hotel they put me in is a four star hotel located near Roppongi, which is the cultural and international section of Tokyo. Whenever you see Tokyo on television, this is the place they show you first. Roppongi, the district is mostly state of the art bars which accommodate individual nations and fetishes. Everywhere you walk there is a group snapping their fingers and looking cool. Here you find Japan's mods, their Paris Hiltons, their punks, their Elvisi and their scoundrels. Every single one of them looks overtly homosexual and I almost feel like they should sell action fingers for these people because I would buy the whole set.
Also floating Roppongi is the American chain restaurants that suck so much in America that they brought them over here. Chillis, Hard Rock, etc. They are all here and they are all popular. It turns out that the latest rage in Japan is Italian food and pasty/coffee shops, so the American restaurants are taking a beating and perhaps they could close up shop soon, but before you get excited, most Americans stationed over here keep them in business and the likelihood of them really leaving is nil. If it's American, the Japanese will buy it and love it. Just not our electronics. (not one Texas Instruments store anywhere)
The Chief that we met in Yokosuka who took us to the private karoake bar is here and he took us to lunch and gave us the tour of where to go, what to do,what to avoid and how to hit on locals. I tried to explain to him my name dilemma and that the locals find me offensive in everyway an American can be offensive and I am pretty sure that my best efforts would be pretty fruitless and he frowned and agreed that I do have an uphill battle. However, there is a an S&M club and a punk rock bar that sit next to each other in Roppongi and I think that is where I will find myself rotting away for the next two days. Somewhere in that time I have to do a show for Marines and their "girlfriends", but after that, I have 40 hours of me time before I leave for the airport. Beyond the grandness and the thrill of Japan lies the rather dark, unappealing tour of Korea.
The show goes down pretty hard. The opening act bailed out after only 25 minutes of his contracted 45, so I am left to pick up the slack. The audience is a bit thin, but we were told before the show that the US ambassador to Japan, the marine commander of the Pacific fleet, a ton of state department officials and an equally impressive number of marines and everyone's spouse, will be in the building and attending the Marine Corp 230th birthday gala, so security is very, very tight and no one can get in to the building unless they have a super-duper top level security clearance that even James Bond and Jesus don't have. (but, I do) The audience was pretty small is what I am trying to say.
I rocked it. Kept it real clean and made some new friends out the audience. After the show, while hanging out in the smoking lounge (outside of this sweet hotel) I get to meet a lot of the state department officials from the gala and I am trying not to be my curious self around them. They have been trained to detect spies by the number of questions they are asked and the method that is used to ask the questions, so I am doing my best not to ask what anyone does at the embassy or where anyone is from or how long they have worked there, which leaves an introduction pretty much with, "wanna make out or what?". Outside of that, I have nothin'. I wouldn't have asked them anything but a lot of them are hitting on me while they smoke and I have never been in this position before so I am really unsure of what to do. Images of sleeping with the ambassador's wife and having the CIA break in and take me to jail is just too powerful for me to get that turned on by the situation. The ones that don't hit on me have great stories of working in embassies all over the world and I try to enjoy their stories and tell them some of my own, which seems to work. I am surprised that not one person from the state department ever wanted to return to the states, not even for visits or retirement or burial.
The wives that are not hitting on me, decide that they want to take myself and the other comic out to Roppongi to do whatever you do in Roppongi late at night. The women are dressed in ten thousand dollar evening gowns and I am wearing a bright orange flannel shirt and a brown fedora, but turns out to be okay in Roppongi. We have to take four cabs to get us all there and when we arrive, it's madness. Absolute madness. Easily one hundred thousand people, from every nation, dressed in every way, milling around, humping, fighting, screaming, drinking, throwing up, dodging hookers and stumbling over downed buddies that have been left on the sidewalk like refuse. It's a mad house. To add to the insanity, England is playing Australia in a pretty big rugby match and it's airing live in most of the bars here. When England wins, the fights begin. Aussies take rugby pretty seriously and they outnumber every other nationality in Roppongi on any given day so the few Brits that are walking around here are toast. (or crumpet, if you prefer) Of course, the only way to tell if someone is British is to walk up to them, grab them, spin them around and then make them say something, if the accent fits, the fight begins. It was crazy.
I am looking rather Aussie this particular evening, so I am not sweating it, however I'm walking through Roppongi with a rather drunk Mexican that is screaming obscenities into the night air, and fifteen women dressed in ten thousand dollar evening gowns and two state department officials are looking at me like I might be a security risk. It's time to get drunk.
I do not remember how or when I got home, I just remember that I got a call in my room at 10 AM. I still have all of my money but I am clutching a flyer that is advertising animals for sale, I think, and the flyer is designed much the same way that escorts in Vegas have theirs. I do remember that there was a lot of drinking, a lot of strange bar behavior and that I took a cab home alone, even though I have numbers and email addresses in my pocket for different women that I can't picture or remember. Roppongi... It can do that.
I have a full day of Tokyo before I depart, I have a huge list of things to do and it all starts on a subway.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 3:43 PM
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