The Fruitless Hunt for Japanese Tail

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Late January of 2009,

Note: If you had yet to complete or wish to begin reading John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, please, don't read this entry. Thank you and enjoy =].




For one week in late January, I started my backpacking experiment around East Asia in Tokyo, Japan. The occasion was to visit my cousin and see Tokyo, something I've wanted to do since I was 16. For the record, I wish to keep all names anonymous for moral and practical reasons. One evening, my cousin took me to a popular bar area in Tokyo called Shinjuku ( for those that have been to Beijing, think of it as the Sanlintun of Tokyo, only much bigger) at my own request. The idea was to meet cute Japanese girls, and I was as enthusiastic as he was. During our search, we were stopped by a very nice Nigerian man who invited us to check out a pub owned and operated by him and his friends. So we walked about a block or two and descended down some stairs into a bar filled with- I kid you not- a total of ten people. Those visibly present were the bar tender, a Japanese male youth who served as the DJ that played popular 50 Cent songs ( I recall one that went something like this: " Little mama show me how ya' do it...shake..shake dat ass girl!"), three other Africans, a Japanese girl who was surrounded by the Africans, my cousin and I, a sad-looking oriental man wearing a suit while drinking at the bar table, and the Nigerian himself. We each ordered a pint of Guiness and after some chatting, my cousin and I payed money to play an electronic version of darts at the Nigerian's request. My cousin was both friendly and funny, as is natural to him. He laughed, joked around, and made the best of it, unlike my formerly naive self, who merely remained quiet and subtly urged him to leave as soon as possible. We both agreed that we would leave after one beer and one game, which was only right by virtue of the Nigerian's kindess. We were in it for the crowds, party-like vibe, and the women- simple as that. After the game was over, we politely excused ourselves and although the man looked discouraged, I think our collective generousity ( bewteen the three of us) made the loss bearable for him.

So we wandered into a nearby bar which had- outwardly- what we were looking for. Before continuing, I want to devote some time to say something here: We were drawn here by the word that Japanese girls come to these areas looking to hook up with foreigners ( in this story, foreigners will entail non-Oritentals, as Japanese girls of this kind generally seemed unattracted to other Oriental males); kind of like the way the migrant workers were all drawn to California in Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath. Remember what happened after they arrived? After expecting better pay and opportunities, they were reduced to oppression and exploitation. Why? Although there is more to it, it's because so many had the same idea. If too many chase the same limited number of things, then the value is lost; furthermore, in relevance to that night, one is left with scarcity, as the number of horn dogs exceeded the number of oriental kittens. This should serve as advice to those who are unfortunate with women back home and more fortunate in the Orient: don't spread the word! If many foreginers go there, many more will be exposed, and then the girls will have more to choose from, thus standards will develop. The value of being a foreigner in the Orient will be worthless; furthermore, if too many go then the objectively handsome ones will inevitably go, and you'll be outdone with the competition as is back home. Bitterness will then resume among some of the expatriates, and the less desirable ones will lose the gift they longed to obtain: not being pussyless. Those men will have to advance the whole " what's on the inside argument" again, a standard that most men would never live up to anyway. I remember being reminded of a personal belief: If resources were today unlimited, less people would fight and everyone would have what they need; sadly, there was and always will be more hunters than game,so naturally conflict occurs in order to ensure survival or the advancement of one's interests. One inevitably ends up at the losing end. You'll see the parallels as we now continue the story, as most suffered from sexual starvation than anything else.

We walked into the bar, and I instantly found my ears and eyes struck and my person shocked as if by lightning itself: My ears by the sound of the loud music and my eyes by the sight of a jam-packed bar ( we had to squeeze by just to order drinks) with 90% foreign males and 10% Japanese females. I don't think there was a single foreign girl or Japanese male ( apart from the staff) socializing in that place; not that I saw anyway. Many of them were whites, while a few were Indians and Africans ( many from western countries, I'm sure). To understand my position better, I think I should describe the environment: It was a small pub with brown, long, wooden tables; the roof, roof beams, and columns all appeared in the same manner. It was so crowded that those occupying a table had to send one to get up and bring the beers to their mates, while others passed the beer to any staff member who stayed near the tables.

I will describe what I saw of the two classes: the lucky few and the unlucky many. Let' start with the former. This minority occupied the majority of tables. There was a 2:7 ratio of foreigners and oriental females ( Japanese presumably) on average, as excesses were by no means rare. The lucky few were toasting each other by banging their mugs of beer against one another ( saying "ganbei!"), laughing, groping and hugging the girls, while others had girls leaning on them and caressing them in the neck and chest areas. I also saw others showing napkins of poorly drawn figures, others were gesticulating rapidly, others shaking hands as to credit them for a job well-done, and I even saw couples kissing one another twice. Now, as for the unlucky many, a group of which I was a member, the reality was as follows: A great many were standing while casually drinking bottles of beer and talking very close to each other's ears, some smiling, a few Brits were acting exceptionally cheerful ( I somehow felt they decided to make the best of it), many conversing in a standard manner, while others looked watchful, sad, bored or discontent. There was a football (soccer) game on for those unlucky ones without desired company who were, presumably, reduced to watching TV. Mind you, out of all the lucky foreigners, at least 5% were actually good looking.


Shortly after we arrived, someone had the good sense to turn down the volume. My cousin and I then spoke casually. My cousin is a man with many friends due to his amazing people skills. He can bring an environment to life with his energy-I somehow think of the story of Lazarus when I see him work his miracles. His energy is balanced with good sense ( tact, in other words) and a gentle smile, so during conversations, he doesn't intimidate, bore or annoy anyone. He quickly found a way to get the attention of a girl who had received a mixed drink and was looking around the bar. He spotted her like an owl spots a mouse and moved in for the kill as swiftly as one. He introduced us and the two of them ended up talking; everything I seemed to say was cause for head scratching and akward silence, so I was quickly eliminated by the potent social action of ignoring! I was then bumped on the shoulder by a tall white guy who quickly apologized and then struck up a conversation with me. He was Austrian, so let's call him The Aussman. He then manuvers his way in to shake hands with my cousin and the girl. Shortly after, a much older looking white male comes in and asks if everything is ok. He said he was an Italian physicist, so let's call him Da Vinci ( The real Da Vinci himself was an inventor, among many things). As my cousin was sorting out the bump ( this was clearly an excuse to talk to the girl, as they were incredibly nice guys), I took some time to talk to the girl, thinking her snubbing me was perhaps a misunderstanding and that she'd like me better if I showed her more of my character, but she was being incredibly harsh to me. She had a curt and sassy response to everything I said. She was rude, pretentious, vain, and sassy(apparently, she had spent some time in the west). I'm not good looking at all, so I'm used to being rejected, but that's not what bothered me: it's the way she completely bit my hand off.


Initially, I thought she was pretty but looking back at it now,she was average at best. Now, I refrained from describing anyone in detail and mention names out of generousity, but for her I'm going to make an exception. I'm the sort of animal who is harmless and gentle unless threatended or harmed; in other words, if you step on my tail, I'll bite you viciously. Here it goes: I forget her name, but she was about 5 feet tall ( approximately). She had protruding cheeks so excessive that it killed any chances of being cute; it looked as if attempted surgery had gone incredibly wrong. Her nose was as flat as if some ex-boyfriend hit her with an ironing board through previously surpressed fury because of her snobbiness. She had as much meat on her behind as the most extreme of Hindu ascetics. Her chest was nearly as flat as a new born baby's. Her eyes were so squinty, and I suppose it makes it difficult for her to properly look in the mirror and see that she's not so beautiful as to be THAT selective and impudent to decent guys. For the record, we'll call her Yuki, which is Japanese for "snow". I say "snow" because many thought she was beautiful, and like snow ( assuming her beauty is a fundamental truth), it's so beautiful on the outside that one could rightfully feel tempted to touch it and sleep on it, but all that's provided is a bitterly cold sensation, the potential for illness and death, and not the warmth that we seek ( metaphorically speaking) in genuine love. Nothing can be learned from that vile wretch other than how deceptive physical apperance is. Beauty comes from the heart, not the face ( and I've lived up to those standards in my past). Therefore, I will call her Yuki.

Now, all four started talking, and I was in this little circle among a huge crowd. The best part about this event is this: it ended. If Yuki wasn't so nasty, I'd have pitied her ; she was surrounded by four comparatively huge forginers, and poor little Yuki uncomfortably crunched in this small circle; each of the guys were competing for her attention by trying to say the smartest and most charming thing; it felt like a game of Jepoardy or Wheel of Fortune, where all know the answers and whoever pushes the button the fastest is free to say the answer. Of course, like the games themselves, the right responses were not always brought about; for instance, my cousin brought up the subject of Japanese characters and asked Yuki to write one for him, so Da Vinci then pulls out a pen and a folded newspaper out of his back pocket as quickly as one usually gives an armed robber his/her money and said " You can write it here, along with your number ( it's not a precise quote, but that's basically what he said)". I still laugh about that to this day. I seldom spoke and listened, but spent much time looking around. When I did, I didn't merely see a fruitless hunt for Japanese tail, I saw a public park where some bread pieces had been distributed and massive numbers of piegons were flocking quicky to eat them, few succeeding while the rest merely walked around looking for more crumbs. It got more humiliating by the second and honestly, I wanted to go home. This sad Wheel of Fortune episode fially ended and my cousin ended up winning this tedious game- his prize: her phone number!

After we left, we both caught the last train to his home and merely fell asleep. I have many regrets about that night, but for better or worse, I gained a little more wisdom. It was a refreshing feeling to see and understand the world, human nature, social interactions, and where I truly stand in that regrad, both socially, physically, and philosophically. It's been said that history always repeats itself, and if that's true then I truly have no luck, as I'm not looking forward to another hunt.

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