"Spring" Break: The First Ten Days [Part 1]

Misaki-sensei, hands-down my favorite teacher of the semester.
After the last of the presentations, she took us out to a really nice izakaya (Japanese tavern) specializing in fugu (blowfish :X).
This amazing car was just sitting on the central drive of Keio's Hiyoshi campus. Check out the license plate.
A couple of other people were taking pictures, and joking about just climbing in and getting a feel for the seats. Mm, the smell of leather and wealth.
Spotted a stormtrooper on the way from Shibuya to Harajuku. I think it's part of a new Star Wars-related ad campaign by Adidas... but then again maybe he just favors the impenetrable defense of Imperial full-body armor for his walks.
There is too much cuteness in the world sometimes...

(Harajuku).
Daniel snuggles up to a Birthday Ghoul at The Lockup in Shibuya (yes, that's a wig).
Happy Birthday to you too, Fabien!



[How I Nearly Got Arrested, Then Broke in My Front Teeth and Partied for Three More Days]


I have been lucky enough to experience an unprecedented torrent of fun and madness these last ten days- but where to begin the tale? Ah yes...

Well, before I get on with the story of how I was nearly arrested, I would like to discuss my Revelation of the Day. Today's revelation is that I'm kind of a dick sometimes.

I gave my big final presentation on cannabis a week ago. The presentation itself went off without a hitch- the problem was the Q&A session afterwards.

I am a compulsive procrastinator, meaning I frequently feel like I just cannot work (e.g. on tomorrow's speech) until the last possible moment. I need the adrenaline rush that comes with deadline-defying acts of late-night academic heroism. So I gave my presentation on two hour's sleep, completely wired on caffeine and dangerously high-strung, but functioning well. A little bit too well. Sometimes I slip into these moods (particularly when under the influence of caffeine) where I'm very alert, but I come across as uncomfortably intense and it's almost impossible to have a comfortable, balanced conversation with me. I tend to be irritable and impatient.

Oh well. I won't go into specifics, but suffice it to say I was way too confrontational during the Q&A session, and I regret it. Bad me. The worst thing I could do after delivering reasonably successful rhetoric was to lose my audience by being combative. Lesson learned.

Back to the story...

As you know, I found my bike sorted in with the bulky trash behind a condominium, and then took it without anyone's permission, figuring no-one would mind. The fact is, I was never completely sure of the history of that bike. Perhaps it had been stolen, and stashed where I found it. Perhaps it's illegal in Japan to take a bike under any circumstances, or perhaps it had been sold to a scrap-yard and wasn't ownerless after all.

Point is, I was on shaky legal ground when the police stopped me on my way from Harajuku to meet Maya for book-shopping in Shinjuku. I had just crested a hill and was beginning the descent when I noticed the white-gloved palms of two uniformed policemen, unmistakably signaling me to stop. As I pulled over in front of the patrol car I already had a pretty clear idea of what this was about. Bikes are important in Japan- all bikes are registered to their owners with the police. Bike theft is also a big concern for police here, and foreigners are generally regarded with a little more suspicion than the average Japanese. Especially wild-haired foreigners riding utterly incongruous powder-blue bikes.

The taller of the two policemen walked up to me as I rested the bike on its stand, and asked me "Japaneezu OK? OK?" holding up both hands. He reacted with obvious relief when he realized I could understand Japanese, then asked me straight out "are you the registered owner of this bicycle?"

Oof. Here's where I must have started to seem awfully suspicious. "Uh... I don't think so... that is, the bike is mine, but I found it."

"...'found' it?"

"Yes, in a garbage dump. It was unrideable- the back tire was punctured. And I repaired the brake cable myself."

"So then you took it, without permission?" he said, smiling disingenuously.

At this point I hesitated. The shorter cop (hunchbacked little creep) almost sneered, showing me his yellowed teeth. "You can't just take other people's bikes, you know..."

"Yes, I know. But this bicycle was abandoned."

"I see," said the taller one. "Well, as you may be aware there have been numerous occurrences of bicycle theft recently. If you would be so kind as to speak with us briefly at the station, I am sure we can clear this up right away."

At the station, the taller (and more polite) officer took a detailed statement, asking me to sketch the place where I found the bike, probing for inconsistencies in my story. I think this was done largely in order to waste my time while someone in a back room of the station called the registered owner of the bike. It was a tense few minutes. What would happen if they couldn't get through to the original owner? What would happen if, through a freakish turn of chance, the bicycle was stolen?

I was halfway through the fourth retelling of how and where I picked up the bike when an officer I hadn't seen before came out of the back room and whispered something into the ear of my interrogator. They paused, then nodded to one another.
The first officer leaned over the desk, and said "We have contacted the original owner of the bicycle. It seems she did in fact intend to throw it away. Thank you for your time."

"Thank you, officer. What should I do if I get pulled over again?"

"If that happens, I suppose I must ask that you cooperate with us once more."

And that was that. Although now every time I get on my bike, I know I run the risk of being hauled off once again by the cops. Oh well, the bike was really cheap : )

After escaping the clutches of the Yoyogi policemen, I rode off for Shinjuku, where Maya had been waiting the whole time. We bought a ton of books at a great bookstore called Kinokuniya- I picked up a copy of Gravity's Rainbow in English, as well as Spanish for Dummies and a Spanish language edition of Love in the Time of Cholera, which I swore at the time I would struggle through and finish reading by the end of Spring Break. That's still my intention- I just need to learn Spanish first.

I spent the following four days strolling around Shibuya and Harajuku with Maya... shopping for clothes, seeing the sights, taking things slow. Spring Break had just begun, and I had time on my hands at last. The problem with nice clothes, though, is that they're expensive. They also make me acutely aware of how badly fitted and unattractive my old clothes are. On the other hand, I finally have some nice clothing, and I'm starting to learn how to dress well. Oh, sweet vanity.

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And then came Friday night, the night of Daniel's birthday / farewell party. I lost a few teeth. Let me explain...

The night began ordinarily enough. I joined up with Daniel's group by the statue of Hachiko, near that enormous scramble crossing in front of Shibuya Station. I had been told that the venue for the party was an izakaya. Knowing Daniel, this seemed a little tame. However...

The izakaya we went to is called "The Lockup." From street level, we descended two flights of stairs and found ourselves in a dark, cramped tunnel of artificial rock. We pressed on past a series of alcoves containing monsters, skulls, dismembered bodies, chains, gore... Lighting came solely from a series of irregularly placed blacklights and electric candles. As I descended into the bowels of this place, I felt as if I had entered a freakish nightmare. Shrieks and a rattle of chains echoed around us. I stepped on a weird soft spot in the floor, but I couldn't see my footing in the murk.

After what seemed like a long time, we emerged into a chamber lit entirely by rows of blue plasma disks on the walls and floor, where we were greeted by a young woman in a short-skirted police uniform. She handcuffed some of us (Daniel and Fabien, I think), then lead us through the dungeon. The booths were all closed in, with barred windows and low ceilings.

We were lead to our table and served drinks and bubbling cauldrons full of noodles and meat and vegetables in broth. Every half hour or so, the lights would go out and heavy metal music would be pumped into the room as men in monster costumes ran from booth to booth terrifying anyone they could find. A couple of minutes into each outbreak, a few of the policewomen would begin chasing the monsters around, firing at them with cap guns. Eventually, peace was restored. I made plans with Daniel and his friend Haruto to go fishing the following Sunday.

After dinner (and a fair bit of drinking), Daniel led us outside to drink more. This is usually how things are with Daniel- I should have known the moment the paper cups and hard liquor came out that we were in trouble. To be fair, the liquor I mention was a bottle of Jack Daniels I had gifted him earlier that night, so I am indirectly responsible for some of what followed.

There were repeated raids on the nearby convenience store in search of booze and snacks, and one of the girls threw up on herself. Daniel's friend Okubo went for a nap on the downtown Shibuya pavement, and several unknown Japanese guys tried valiantly to rouse him with patriotic drinking songs, and almost carried him off in their arms. Eventually, all of the girls had left and it was just us guys, drinking and carousing.

Things get very hazy leading up to my dramatic fall in the McDonald's. At one point I remember a Japanese girl asking me if I was British (I had on a tweed vest- I think that was why).

So... yes. I was carrying a tray of food. I believe, based on the nature of my injuries and eyewitness reports, that I attempted to climb the stairs to the second level of the McDonald's, where everyone had retreated from the cold. At some point I must have tripped or blacked out because I fell hard. The next thing I remember is Daniel wiping blood off of my forehead with a napkin. Someone had salvaged the tray after I dropped it, but as I bit into my Big Mac I became dimly aware that all was not quite right with my mouth.

As fact would have it, I pulverized one of my front teeth in the fall, breaking it clean off and exposing the pulp, as well as cracking it down to the root. The tooth next to that one was loosened and received hairline fractures. In all, I damaged or destroyed at least three of my front teeth- but I didn't let it get in the way of having a good time.

When I woke up on Saturday afternoon (having returned home on the first train), the first thing I did was find an English-speaking dentist who could see me immediately. Dr. Enatsu performed a palliative partial root canal with professionalism and efficiency. He is a phenomenal dentist, and I cannot thank him enough.

But I am going to Thailand in less than three days. Why? Because as it turns out, it would cost almost seven thousand dollars to get the surgery I need in Japan. I need the damaged tooth removed, and a titanium screw drilled into my skull to hold a replacement porcelain crown. Another of my teeth might need a similar level of attention. Such idiocy! I can't believe I fell down drunk in a McDonald's, for the love of god. If I had to lose teeth, the least I could have done was get in a bar fight over a lady's honour. I look like Alfred E. Neuman. My self-respect is at an all-time low. But on the bright side, I get to see Bangkok!

[The tale continues in Part 2]...
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