How the fuck do I end up where I end up

"Alright already we'll all float on, ok.
Don't worry we'll all float on.
Even if things get heavy, we'll all float on."

*Japanese dialogue depicted in italics

My confused brain forced me to stay up far later last night than I probably should have, allowing me to awake at a robust 1pm. Thinking the Big Wave picnic was going to happen at 1:30, I panicked a little bit, before realizing that it was raining, and there was obviously no picknicking to be had today. So I got in contact with Ho, who was officially a homeless Ho because the friend he was staying with went to hip-hop dance camp (whut) so we met and went to Harajuku and ate at Johnny's--which is essentially a Denny's, with more rice involved. We ordered a meal of chicken and a hamburger (a tiny sausage and corn on the side) with rice and corn soup. Now that is damn food. I don't know what the hell is up with the average portion size here, but for once it was nice to eat with another American and scarf up an insane amount of food without feeling like a ridiculous fatass. We walked up and down Omotesando and Harajuku street. We also bought my favorite thing ever--crepes!! These crepes aren't like the lame little flabby crepes with blueberry sauce that they give you at Ihop. Mine was huge, and stuffed with mixed berries, whipped cream, and an entire slice of cheesecake. My heart slowed as I gladly welcomed death at the taste of this deadly, delicious monster. Now diabetics, we went off to Tamachi to meet with the people that Ho would be staying with now that Jen was off learning to be a back-up dancer. Knowing how horrible it can be meeting families and being forced to have dinner with them, I accompanied him.

Koki, Jen's friend of a friend, met us at the station and took us back to his parents' house. He spoke English after studying in Seattle and Boston for 3 years, and at 23, he was temporarily staying with his parents for some reason or another. Meeting his parents was more than slightly awkward, and even though Ho speaks no Japanese, they kept making me speak it, telling me my accent was good, etc. Speaking in Japanese in front of strangers really freaks me the fuck out...my friends are all forgiving of course, but the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally insult the family of the friend of a friend of one of my friends. I guess.

The host father gave us tea and some weird rice dish he cooked, and showed us sort of before-and-after photos of the Shinagawa area of Tokyo, before all of the skyscrapers went up and the concrete jungle was born. He also thought it was strange that out of all of America's jazz musicians, I like music as old as Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole. Hey, Man, don't knock it 'till you've tried it. After awhile, Koki had to go to some business get-together for his job as a bartender, so I said goodbye to Ho and walked to the station. During the slightly long walk, we got to talking about my utter rejection the day before. He laughed and told me that all Japanese men are bastards, and can't be trusted. After talking about his rejection by an American girl, we concluded that American women cannot be trusted either. When I told him I confessed my attraction straight up in Japanese, he punched me in the arm--ow--and said I earned his respect. He asked if I wanted to come to the bar with him in Shinagawa. Having nothing better to do, I agreed. Apparently, he works for a bar chain called 82 in Tamachi, and his boss invited him to a nomikai (drinking social, good PR) in the next neighborhood over to introduce him to some of his other friends who run and own 82s in the area.

Koki and I had immediate friend chemistry (I call it friemistry) and we ended up running around Shinagawa beneath an umbrella in the rain trying to find the 82. Eventually, we found it. At the entrance, I commented on the fact that it was kind of strange that I had only known him for a few hours, and yet I was a guest at this get-together.

"...You're right, that is kinda weird."

"Okay, we've known each other for 3 years, we met at Seattle Pacific, and I call you Koko," I said, stepping into the entrance. 

"What??"

"Hi, my name is Alex." I shook hands with his boss. The first drink Koki ordered was a Gin Rickey. Although he was in training to be a bartender, he doesn't drink. I advised that a Gin Rickey wouldn't impress anybody, and that he should ask around to see what the party recommended. A few moments later, he sat with a miniature snifter of Jameson Irish Whiskey. After a sip or two, he concluded that it was definitely too strong. Handing it to me, the entire table watched me as I stared at it. I laughed. "You're kidding, right?" I said through smiling teeth.

"Please don't make me look bad," he said, through equally gritted teeth.

"What the fuck," I said, and down it went. I'm not a fan of whiskey, but I've got to admit it didn't burn as much as I thought it would. A number of "American Lemonades" later, 

"....and then he said to me, he says, 'but it was nice seeing you', and he shakes my goddamn hand!" The table erupted in laughter as I snorted at my own story and took another swig of lemonade. I grinned at Koki, who was nervously smiling, sipping a Tequila Sunrise. Among the people at the table were a pair of young 20-somethings who sing pop music to a backup track in Shibuya on weekends, a middle-aged female bartender from Roppongi, Koki's boss, who almost kind-of spoke English, and an older Irish man who worked in the flight simulation business and was sad that he couldn't find anybody to go to the Doobie Brothers concert with. After I got over the confusion of the Doobie Brothers playing shows in Tokyo, I sat back for a minute and wondered how the fuck I ended up in a bar talking to this guy.

At around 11:15, I started to panic, remembering that the trains stop early on Sunday, and I had to get to Takadanobaba in less than 45 minutes, which meant I had to go fast. "GOGOGO!!!" I shoved Koki out of the booth and we hastily said goodbye to all of our new friends as we walked briskly to the station. He kept poking me relentlessly whenever he was making a point, so I ended up chasing him the entire way back, whacking him with my $5 umbrella. I said goodbye and ran to the gate, praying as I got on the train that I would make it to Takadanobaba in time to transfer to the Seibu-Shinjuku line to take me back to Tanashi. I made the last train. Unfortunately, it was a local, so instead of the Express which would normally take about 15 minutes, this one took the better part of an hour. I walked home through the deserted streets of Tanashi and got home around 1am, wondering wtf just happened.