Friday night snacks

Nine Japanese high school girls swarmed around me shrieking my name and giggling little giggles that bit at my ears. They clamored for my attention, but freaked out and turned away with a gasp when I looked to acknowledge one of them. No, I wasn’t walking down the red carpet; I was just at school helping some first year students practice an English song. An English love song. For half an hour I stood opposite a semicircle of hyper girls listening to verses about eternal love and encouraging the girls to stand still and not play with their/each other’s hair.

Upon leaving school, I was drained…all of my energy carried away by the students. But it was Friday night and I had a bonenkai to get to. QUICK CULTURE LESSON: a “bonenkai” is an end of the year dinner party where colleagues get together and celebrate the previous year before welcoming the next one. On this Friday night, I was going to the bonenkai for the local ALTs (assistant language teachers) where I would also meet up with two of my Japanese friends. The plan was dinner at Kura and then drinks/karaoke at the legendary “R” bar, but it was the events between the two stages that merits this blog entry.

As our group of gaijin, with the two Nihonjin in tow, moved from the restaurant to the bar, I found myself suddenly whisked away down the street to another establishment by my Japanese friends. Apparently on this very same night some of their friends were also having a bonenkai. My friend, as he took my arm and led me towards the neon lights of “downtown” Usa, said “let’s sneak away…just for five minutes to see the other people.”

Five minutes turned into forty minutes and ended up costing me 4,000 yen (about $40).

As we walked away from my familiar, English speaking friends and towards the group of Japanese-3 of them standing like giants in the group on account of them being former sumo wrestlers—I felt a mix of fear and excitement. When they all saw me coming, they shouted my name “Jasten! Geeeeaaasuten!” and gave me handshakes. The smell of alcohol swirled around their dark suits and soon I was part of their throng headed towards a nearby snack bar called “Watashi wa piano” (I am piano).

ANOTHER QUICK CULTURE LESSON: a “snack bar” is an omnipresent kind of drinking establishment where Japanese men go to be served expensive drinks by pretty girls. There are snacks at these places, but they cost a HUGE amount of money and the uninitiated can leave with the burden of a hefty bill. Perhaps you could call me the uninitiated. Or maybe this was just one of those cultural experiences that as a foreigner you just can’t escape and have to roll with the situation. I tried to roll and found myself drinking expensive whiskey and singing the “Beatles” with one of the largest Japanese men I’ve ever encountered (sumo champion in his high school days).

Time moved at a strange pace…random men kept shifting positions so they could sit next to me and try out their English skills (some very impressive) all while a young waitress smiled and giggled at me.

Eventually, my friend with his expertise in “sneaking away” pulled me away from the crowded room and back out onto the cold street. We then headed to “R” bar to rendezvous with the other gaijin.

I feel that the night was a success because I’m writing about it now. While I don’t think I’ll be heading back to a snack bar anytime soon, it was good to go once…especially with Japanese people.