Thursday, September 18, 2008

Roppongi is the Mos Eisley of Tokyo or how I started worrying that one should be dubious of EVERY club in Roppongi.

After Tea Ceremony concluded, I headed out to Roppongi, an area of town know for it's clubs and bars. I normally wouldn;t care to go to something like this, but a friend back home encouraged me to get out of my comfort zone while I was away. It sounded like good advice at the time.

I was mostly interested in seeing Tokyo Tower at night. Tokyo Tower is a red and white eiffel tower-esque structure located in Midtown Tokyo, but visible from Roppongi. I walked around and was amazed at the number of Jamaican men milling about the streets. It didn't take long for them to approach me asking if I wanted to make sexy times at their club. I soldiered on and finally found the tower. I took my pictures and was trying to figure out what to do next. That's when I remembered the advice.

I wasn't interested in going to a strip club, so I kept my eyes peeled for a bar that didn't have a gaggle of street barkers trying to pull me through the threshold of the club. I finally found a small club called Club Jazz. The sign had a graphic icon of a piano and some kanji. I decided this was probably a good compromise and went in. There was no cover charge or doorman, just a small stage with a piano and lots of couples talking and having a good time. One such couple was in a booth right as I entered and they were at it pretty hot and heavy. Like in National Lampoon's European Vacation, I thought he was going to pork her right there.

I ordered a beer and waited for the music to start. As I sat at the bar, the bartender pointed to a japanese girl at the other end of the bar and said "why don't you buy her a drink?" Since my beer only cost $2, I said sure. The bartender went to talk to her and she came over. I asked her what she wanted to drink and she said "Wine." So I asked the barkeep for a glass of wine. We attempted to make small talk, but her English was pretty broken. I think she said she was from Osaka and I never caught her name. She said something about where I was from and if i saw anything I liked here. I told her the Ghibli Museum was pretty cool. She mumbled some other small talk at me, but seeing as how I could barely hear her, let alone understand her, I turned my gaze to people watching. Some of these couples were getting pretty frisky. It was then that Osaka said "Why don't you buy a bottle of champagne?" and proceeded to grab my junk.

Now the pieces had locked into place. The guy I thought was going to pork his companion was now getting a blow job. I told Osaka thanks, but no thanks and asked to close my tab. The bartender said I owed $30 for the wine, $20 for the introduction and $2 for my beer. I tried in vain to explain that's not what I thought was going on, but he obviously didn't care/had heard it all before. I paid and got up to leave. As I was leaving that crappy not-jazz Norah Jones song started playing over the PA and a chunky blonde with no top was writhing on the piano I had expected jazz to come out of.

I think the moral of the story is that there are no Clubs in Roppongi that aren't Gentleman's Clubs. At least that's the understanding I'm going to operate under from now on.

4 comments:

Valerie Putman said...

Nice!!!!

Marjorie said...

Dude. You're such a pussy. I thought you were in Tokyo for adventure! What the eff? Most funks of venereal derivation are minimally transmittable via the mucus membrane on the inside of the human mouth, you know. I mean... you had already paid $50 at that point...

Kam said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kam said...

Ha...in person you are a man of few words, but in writing you are one wordy bastard.
Good story. I will have to make sure I hit this bar in hopes to catch a conversation with this girl.
This happened to me in Korea.
Went to a bar and was unaware that it was custom for the employees to grab the girl that male customer would like to pursue...
Bartender grabbed me, but proceeded to knock me down. It was great...ahhh, memories.