Café Crappy

I'm sitting in an internet café at 5 am in Nagoya waiting for a the first train of the day to come take me back to good ol' Toyota City.

Tonight I went to Sakae (Nagoya's downtown district) to hit up the Japanese club scene for the first time. It has been an interesting night.

We first went to a place called ID Bar. Pretty awesome place—six floors of different types of music. There were a good amount of foreigners there, though we were among of only a handful of snow-flakes, at least on our floor (most of the foreigners were Brazilian—maybe white, but certainly not snow-flakes). The best part was that the AC was pumping hard enough that you could dance your heart out without sweating your balls off. Also, there was never a line for the bar or the bathroom even though the place was packed.

The floor we stayed on had two Japanese guys spinning and two black guys rapping, all jammed into a tiny area. There wasn't much need for rapping in most of the songs, so the rappers pretty much just said, "uh huh, yeah. what? what? yeah nigga uh huh" over and over. It felt like home.

$30 dollars got me covered and four drink tickets, three of which I used on vodka and tonic because I thought the yeasty beer would be bad for my gaping hole of a tooth. The fourth I used to get a Zima. That's right, a Zima. Holding a mixed drink on the dance floor was kind of a pain and I noticed a lot of dudes with Zimas, so I figured it was okay here.

On the dance floor, everyone was competing for the only fat chick in Japan. That was odd. At one point "Thriller" started playing and everyone went nuts. but not nearly as crazy as whe they started bumping an electronica cover of Toto. The place erupted.

As I was heading to the bar, a dude darker than me tried to tell me something on the dance floor. I couldn't hear him and when he screamed in my ear I couldn't understand him, but he seemed kinda gay and I think he was hitting on me. I later figured out that he was talking to me in Portugese because there are many Brazilians here.

Back at the bar, waiting for the place to close in five minutes, I sat, staring at a mirror thinking three things—1: how good looking I am when I'm clean cut and slimmed down, 2: how pathetic I am for thing about what I'm going to blog while I'm at a Japanese night club, and 3: that using a comma preceding the "and" when listing makes more sense than omitting it in most cases, but can occassionaly cause confusion.

On the way out, we talked to some girls. Goddamn those half Japanese girls.

The place closed at one and the trains don't run from 11:30 - 6:00. We met a Sweedish Australian dude and his Japanes girlfriend on the street and went to some place for a drink.

After that we wondered around until we finally found a tiny little bar. The Nigerian owner, Kennedy, was a big MFer and kindly welcomed us. I contemplated asking him to stop sending me e-mails. We stayed for one drink.

After that, we found a stand selling Cup Kebab and struck up a conversation with some black guys from California who offered to show us where they saw a sign that said "big titties." We only ended up finding Chinese chicks who wanted to give us sexy massages for $30. Acknowledging them was a mistake, because they immediately swarmed and started chasing us down the street.

Which brings me here to this crappy internet café. It's almost six. Time to catch the train. This is Japan.

Enjoy this quote:

"You see that gay ass Jap man layin' on that table?"

—Black Californian Dude