3 Day Weekend-Day 3: Japanese Girls Don't Mess Around

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Read Day 1 activities here.
Read Day 2 activities here.

This story is continued from Day 3.

The “chugging a tall boy of Chu-Hi in front of 7/11” scene in front of me abruptly slams into a raging J-party at a bar.

Drunk J-Boys are hopping around, hot J-Girls are posting at the bar, a crazy techno beat was shaking the entire place and all this in a space smaller than most American bathrooms.

I’ve blacked out before into crazier situations so I surveyed the scene with an experienced calmness (“John G. Raped and Murdered My Wife”…ok, time to look at the other tattoos). I tried piecing together my night, but couldn’t remember much…why the fuck was I chugging a tall boy on the streets?

I didn’t have much chance to analyze my condition because one of the hyperactive J-Boys threw his arm around me. “Gen! You don’t got a drrriiiiinnnk!”

Cool. So this is a friend.

“Sorry, I’m just out of money…”

“It’s an open bar, yo!”

Oh.

How much did I fucking drop? An open bar in Tokyo is an unheard of luxury…

I wildly looked around at the clientele but they looked about as young and as shabby as me…some even shabbier, but in that sheik shabbiness that instantly tells you those holes were design concepts, not tears from overuse…

In a jolt, I realize I recognize someone at the far end of the bar. Soon Hae.

I push J-Boy Friend into the thronging mass on the dance floor and push my way through to her.

“Where the fuck is this?”

She ignores my question and introduces me to her stunningly hot friend sitting next to her. Normally, I would be wildly ecstatic to be in the presence of someone this mind-blowingly beautiful (15/16 on the Freedom Scale), but I need to figure out where this was, what this is and how the fuck I got here.

So instead of replying to the girl’s introductions with some cocksure line sure to induce a laugh, I reply with a curt “Cool” then turn back to Soon Hae.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Apparently, this is the third time tonight she’s had to explain this to me…this is her jazz band’s start of the summer bash. One of her bandmates works at this bar so they got it for free this night. Don’t you remember? We were talking about it outside 7/11 when you were chugging…

Memories filtered back and I suddenly remembered why I had chugged that tall-boy. Fuck, God never answers my prayers. Perhaps that’s because I never listen to God.

Like right now.

Open bar, kids my age, Tokyo and a hot girl by my side?

I quickly thank Soon Hae (who hands me one of five drinks in front of her) and slide myself in between her and Hot Girl. “Sorry about that, I just had to confirm something with my friend Soon Hae.”

Hot Girl stares at me with a blank stare, slightly smiling, as if waiting for something.

Huh?

I nervously take a sip of whatever concoction is in my hand and try to strike something up.

“Um, so yea, my name is Gen K----, from New York City.”

She frowns slightly and looks down. Huh? Who the fuck frowns when I say I’m from New York? Is she from Van-city and still traumatized by the ‘94 Cup win by the Rangers? Maybe she’s a terrorist and is unhappy NYC got back on its feet after 9/11?

But no, she looked like any other J-Girl…

She takes a deep breath and looks up. “Mai nemu izu H----- S----!”

Oh.

I had been speaking English to this girl in my drunken stupor. Fuck.

Save the situation.

“Um…Just kidding! I can speak Japanese and…”, I muted the Star Spangled Banner striking up in the back of my head, swallowed my American pride and threw on a huge shit eating smile, “…and hey, you’re pretty good at English.”

Her jaw dropped to the floor. He speaks English and Japanese fluently? Then she realized she had been complimented, and started blushing, “No, no, not at all.”

I placed my finger under her chin, “Really…?”

My finger felt her gulp. “Yea, I’m not that good…”

I smirked. “Oh? Then lemme teach you some English.”

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We spoke for a great length after which she went over to two of her friends on the other side of the bar, all three of them shooting me occasional glances and giggling.

Soon Hae punched me in the shoulder. “You fucking player. That’s my senpai.”

“Ow, fuck, shit,” I rubbed my shoulder. Why the fuck are Koreans so violent? Nevermind I had decked one without instigation two nights before…

“You were hitting on her weren’t you?”

“Um…no,” I awkwardly scratched the back of my neck.

“You’re fucking lying. You were,” she nodded, happy she solved a Sherlock Holmes mystery.

I nodded slowly in defeat, replaying my situation. Fuck, hitting on that girl was about the stupidest thing I could’ve done. I had told Soon Hae on multiple situations I was “in love” with Chiaki to get her on my side, now that was out. Not only was I fucking up shit with myself, but I was also making Teddy look bad in his ex’s mind. Though even half a minute in our presence points all data to the contrary, Asians view me as the reserved, calm and caring portion of the Gen and Teddy Association (GTA?)…so if I was the “calm” one…how wild was Teddy? Soon Hae was now conjuring up wild images of Teddy having 5-somes in Osaka. Fuck.

Time to save the situation.

I smiled my Shy Smile, a technique I absolutely abhor to make under normal situations because it removes all lingering toughness I try to appeal to…and it’s fucking gay. But my drunken instincts deemed this an emergency

The Shy Smile is made by widening my eyes slightly whilst keeping my eyes downcast (and to the side) and smiling shyly with one corner of my mouth. The effect looks like someone who wants to smile fully but can’t because they’re instantly shy and ashamed of what they’re going to say next.

“I hit on her because I can say stuff to other girls…but I’m too scared to talk to Chiaki straight on.”

Here, we have to distinguish that the Shy Smile is always used to tell truths (that sentence above is actually true, I can hit on tons of girls but the irony is I can’t talk to the one girl I genuinely love). Instead of using it to push lies, it’s used to make sure a truth is accepted as a truth. There’s no point if you say truthful things but people misinterpret it as false.

With that said, reread that sentence. The logic makes absolutely no sense. If I had said that under any other circumstances, it would’ve been analyzed mercilessly, thus automatically discarded into the bullshit folder of memory.

But since I’ve used the Shy Smile, the target (Soon Hae) instantly believes it’s true as opposed to 99%!o(MISSING)f the garbage I spew with a cocksure smirk. And since she believes its true, she focuses on the part she wants to believe (the latter part) and completely ignores the other parts.

But she has to confirm it to make sure. And that’s where the beauty of this method lies. The clincher.

“Really?”

“Oh…um no.” I throw on a lopsided smirk that’s not as cocky or confident as usual and I avoid her eyes as I turn to my drink. “Oh this drink is strong…this reminds me of this one time…”

The hasty denial with the hasty attempt to regain the cocky character and then the quick change of subject seals it.

A perfect save.

But you see, everything comes in threes. Three outs to an inning. Three periods in hockey. The Holy Trinity. The Three Kings. A hat trick. And most importantly, bad luck always comes in threes.

But I had only two reasons to save: Soon Hae leaving my lineup and Teddy’s image getting denigrated in Soon Hae’s mind. And then Soon Hae interrupts my story to point out the third reason.

“Just tell her yourself you like her.”

I followed her raised finger. Sitting just three seats down from Hot Girl’s clique, on the tail end of the L-shape of the bar is Chiaki.

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My first reaction was, “Huh? I blacked out and both Soon Hae and Chiaki are still here? My theory didn’t work?”

I’m still drunk (and continuously drinking) so I can’t understand how my bulletproof theory has been gunned down.

Once I had analyzed my theory, the reaction following was a string of expletives.

If she had seen me hitting on Hot Girl, it was all over. Might as well scope the situation…but first a drink.

“Bartender, Jack and Coke.”

The bartender is tired, flustered and he’s getting no tips because its Japan and its an open bar. He hands me a quadruple of Jack in hopes I stop ordering drinks. I pound it back thinking it’s a Jack and Coke and my body is too drunk to taste the alcohol in alcohol and it goes down smooth.

I head down the bar, shouldering through frenzied revelers, trying to think of something to say to Chiaki.

“How are you?” No, too plain.

“What’s up?” Sounds good in English, but crap in Japanese.

“Hey shorty.” I’m not black.

“Lemme buy you a drink.” Open bar.

“I love you.” No…

Well, why the fuck not? I feel amazing right now.

Now buoyed by the confidence of having my first line set, I swagger through the crowd down the bar.

Except there’s a giant obstruction in front of me. A mammoth, walrus-esque mountain of a Japanese man. I poke it. Nothing happens it.

I poke it again. Nothing happens.

I open palm slap it, sending reverberating ripples through it. Strangely, I find this funny and start giggling.

Before I realize it, I’m slapping Mr. Walrus to the techno beat. I guess the stimuli finally awakens Mr. Walrus from his trance and he turns to me.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?”

I take a minute to remember what I was doing. Aha! “Excuse me, but I need to get past you.”

He lumbers to the side and the crowd parts like he’s Moses. And straight down the split, I see Chiaki. But the crowd is closing the gap fast.

But I’m faster.

I go into a two point stance, take a drink from an unsuspecting dancer (Handoff !) and sprint through the gap, it’s closing…glancing behind me, the dancer is chasing after me (Linebacker!)…I turn on the jets (He’s at the 40! The 30!)…it’s closing…

And I’m out (Touchdown!). More due to my skinniness than my speed, I’ve managed to escape just as the dance floor had filled the void and sealed the dancer from getting to me.

I slide to a stop in front of Chiaki and I resist the urge to spike the drink (the celebration following a score, not the ceremony guaranteeing a score). However, I’m drunk enough to shoot both my hands up, “TOUCHDOWN!”

I might as well have whispered considering the blaring techno, but Chiaki smiles as the drink cascades over my body, drenching my hair and shirt.

“Sorry…I just knew I had to act crazy to get the attention of the hottest girl here.”

“Oh…” She blushed, struggling to find a response. She instead reverted to Asian girl genes and punched my arm. “You’re so funny.”

“I try, but it seems you’re the only one who notices.”

“Haha, that’s not true. I’m sure everyone else thinks you’re funny.”

“Yea—Oh shit, oh wait, oh damn.” I grabbed my forehead.

“What?” She glanced at me, concerned.

“I had an opening line all prepared for you, but I forgot to say it in the heat of the moment.”

“Oh…you can still say it if you spent that much time on it.”

“Ok…I love you.”

Her mouth drops and her eyes widen.

I hold her with my gaze, my eyes staring straight into her. Here’s where I make two observations. 1, Chiaki’s eyes are beautiful when they’re wide in surprise and reflecting the strobe lights from the dance floor. 2, Chiaki should not be tall enough to look me straight in the eyes.

She’s closed her eyes and leaning towards me, but these two observations are still nagging, so I place my left hand over my mouth. Instead of feeling two soft Japanese lips reeking of alcohol accepting her lips, she hits a sweaty palm callused by repeated trips to the batting cages and her eyes fly open in question.

With my right hand, I pull out my iPod touch (still caked on one corner with Korean blood) and start navigating through a Photo Album next to her head. She’s leaned too far forward and can’t get back upright. Plus she has heels. So we’re only separated by my thin left hand. Her pupils are pushed to the extreme right of her eyes, attempting to see what I’m doing with my iPod touch. Mine are focused on navigating through the album. I finally find a photo of Chiaki.

I glance at the photo, swivel to her, glance back at the photo. She’s too close to me, and I see four sets of eyes swimming in my vision despite common sense telling me there should be only one. I push her up with my left hand (which she’s still kissing) until she finds her balance. I glance at the photo, swivel to her, glance back at the photo.

Shit, it’s not her. Fuck, where is the real Chiaki.

She’s confused beyond her mind and a little weirded out, “Um, what the fuck?”

Oh yea, who the fuck is this girl in front of me?

I take a step back to get the bigger picture. Oh. I see two minions behind her pretending they’re having a conversation about something at the other end of the bar. Oh, it’s Hot Girl. A very pissed Hot Girl.

Time to save the situation.

I make the Shy Smile, “I’m kinda shy about kissing in public…and I need to go to the bathroom. Sorry.”

I really did need to go to the bathroom, so I narrowly didn’t break my self-enforced rules for the Shy Smile. I turned without waiting for the response and hustled through the dancefloor, pushing Mr. Walrus behind me to impede all pursuers and skidding to a stop next to Soon Hae (who’s trying out for the part of “Korean Sleeping Statue”, it seems). I grabbed the two of the four drinks in front of her, pound them back, hustle down a hallway and push myself into the only bathroom this place has.

I leaned against the door.

Fuck. What the fuck is going on? Where am I? It’s here I came to the brilliant conclusion…I’m drunk. Fucking drunk.

I leaned my head back. Fuck, the room was spinning. I was tired from lack of sleep and three nights of overdrinking. My gut was empty save for a breakfast over 20 hours ago with Kang 2.0. My whole body was drained.

And I had just fucked up every chance with Chiaki.

It hit me like a ton of bricks and aided by the alcohol flowing through my body, I just started breaking down in drunken tears.

And then the door behind me flew open, launching me into the opposite wall. Dazed, I shook my head (making it worse), and turned around to see the two minions had just shouldered the meager lock clean off the door and in between them Hot Girl strutted in, and then halted at the sight of me.

“Why are you crying?”

I was clutching a rapidly swelling forehead and I was furiously wiping tears with my sleeve. I looked like a bitch.

Time to save the situation.

I turned on the Shy Smile, its powers compounded with my tears, “I…I was afraid I fucked up any chance with you.”

She smiled, the way a teacher smiles at a wayward student, the way a mother smiles at a cute mistake made by her child. She shut the door behind her with a swift kick from her leg, shutting us out from the two minions.

“I came to visit you here.” She pushed me up against the wall.

“Because you said.” She lifted my face to hers.

“You’re shy about kissing in public.” We started making out.

Our tongues were romping around each others mouths, she was swiftly unbuttoning my shirt and I was trying to figure out how her crazy Japanese top came off, found a hidden zipper on the back, danced around second and then I abruptly stopped.

She looked questioningly into my eyes. “What?”

“Turn around.”

She smiled, turned around, bent herself over and braced herself against the wall.

I unbuckled my pants, she made low groaning sounds in anticipation, I unzipped my fly, she pushed her ass up further, I took out my cock…and took the biggest piss of my life into the toilet, washed my hands, dried them on some paper towels, walked out to the amazement of the two minions standing guard in the hallway, went to Soon Hae at the bar (now awake), downed the remaining two drinks in front of her, hugged her goodbye and walked out of the club/bar to glaring sunshine.

I walked the few blocks to Shibuya station, got on the first Yamanote train and passed out, my life spiraling out of control as my body circled around Tokyo.

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Photos

Chu Hi
This stuff is literally called, "Kiss, hello"

Chu Hi
It fucks you up cuz it tastes like Sprite