Streaking 30km Part II

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If you have not read the previous entry, read it now. this part of the story is good enough, but it's better to understand the beginning of the night.


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So I'm standing in my undershirt and cap (and nothing else, let me remind you), in front of my door. No keys. No wallet. No cellphone. But I do have my watch so I know its 6:00.

Fuck.

I can't just ring the doorbell either. "Hey grandma, just need to crash after walking naked through Tokyo." Fuck fuck fuck FUCK! Then I realize something. The balcony. I go to the end of the hallway, open the gate leading to the balcony (it wraps around the whole apartment), then get to the back window. Manage to open it, crawl in, silently close it back, bolt it shut, then...

collapse into a fucking chair and breath the biggest sigh of relief.

Turns out my grandmother wasn't home anyway as I check the rooms. I breathe another sigh. Finally everything is going my way. I go to my room, take off my clothes, unroll the futon, and pass the fuck out...

In my haze of drunkness (remember I drank a bottle and a half of vodka about 4 hours ago) and hangover and tiredness, I hear incessant banging and muffled Japanese voices...

I groan and turn over.

They keep banging.

I realize this might be one of my cousins and using all my willpower, push myself up and stagger to the door. I can barely keep my eyes open and mentally curse as I fumble with the doorknob. I push open the door, blink in the sunlight and...

...come face to face with two Japanese cops and a detective...

"wtf?" enters my clouded my brain as they flip me around with ease and push me up against the wall. The detective takes a quick look around in the apartment. He starts speaking rapid fire Japanese and barely able to speak my native language of English in my state, I just mutter incoherently.

They slap the cuffs on, and march me to the station, while I'm trying to figure out what the hell I'm being arrested for. I ask them a few times in Japanese, but get no answer.

At the station, I pretend to not know Japanese (I didn't want to risk a misunderstanding with my limited Japanese). They interrogate me in Japanese but I keep replying in English. After an hour, they bring over an English speaking dude. They repeatedly ask me about the night and subsequent morning. I tell the truth. They are obviously searching for me to admit to something, but I have no idea. I keep searching my memory, but nothing comes to mind (perhaps the 3 hours I don't remember?).

Suddenly, the English speaking cop comes back, hauls me up and leads me out of the room. I'm thinking I'm being sent to the "other" interrogation room and start crapping my pants. He instead leads me to the front and hands me my pants from the previous night with my wallet, cell and keys.



I trudge back home. Then collapse the fuck out. Finally.

I wake up 6 hours later. My cell is ringing off the hook and beeping madly. 56 missed calls, 10 text messages and a call coming in.

I groped in the darkness and manage to hit the right button.

G: Yo.
D: Maji yabai!
G: Wakatta. Neruzo.
D: Hontto ni yabai! Tasukete! Maji yabai!!
G: nani?
D: netara FUKUI ni okita!!
G: nero. omai mada yopparatteiru.

I would find out later he did wake up in Fukui. Fukui, for those not in the know how, is on the other side of Japan. Imagine drinking in New York City and waking up in Jakarta. Nobody goes to Fukui, even Japs. You have to take an express train, then a local train and then a diesel train to get there.

That's my family. I love Japan.

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