Tangles with a Japanese Mafia Boss: A True Story
by projecthitchhiker on September 17, 2008
in Japan, Stories
Jules is the most Japanese white guy I know. Not your predictable J-pop loving, Anime-watching, AV Idol-obsessed Japanophile. No, Jules is the exception to the rule. After four years of living in the Kanto region, he speaks near-perfect Japanese, and uses a dialect unique to Osaka – one used by many Japanese comedians. He works at a host club, an industry found only in Japan, where wealthy, lonely women pay exorbitant sums of money to sit and drink with charismatic, fashionable and conversationally skilled young Japanese men… And one white guy named Jules. All of his co-workers and customers are Japanese and none of them speak any English. He is the antithesis of an ESL teacher in Japan.
The Botched Threesome
by projecthitchhiker on September 28, 2007
in Japan, Stories
(Edit: It’s possible that somewhere down the line, my mom will figure out that I have a blog, and read some posts. So, if you’re my mom, and you’re reading this, please stop reading now and click here to read about bunny rabbits.)
We’ve all had one of those nights. That threesome that almost happened, but not quite. Maybe you were out with your girlfriend and her best friend. Or you were out on a date and ran into an ex who seemed to get along a little too well with your new girl. But there’s always something that goes terribly wrong.
Japan, 2005
For me it was a complete fluke. I was at a bar in Fukuoka called the Happy Cock. Despite the suggestive name, it was not a soap land or a kiss bar. Just a happening club with a dance floor. The place was lit up with those rare gems — sexually confident Japanese girls — and of course a fair share of foreign girls with too many drinks under their belts.
I open conversation with a girl near the bar – a situational “opener” about her Weezer t-shirt. I mention I have seen Weezer in concert, in Fukuoka in fact, and suddenly we have something in common. She is reasonably drunk and appears attracted to me (she grabs my arm and won’t let go), and uses our coincidental shared experience as an excuse to dance with me and later make out. I meet her friend, a cute Asian-American girl. I think I notice, even through my veil of six gin and tonics, that she is possibly attracted to me too.
Upon Meeting The 100% Perfect Moncton Girl
by projecthitchhiker on September 25, 2007
in Hitchhiking, Stories
No money, no ATM card — definitely no credit card. That was what I had decided for the trip. I felt like I needed the challenge. Hitchhiking to Montreal every couple of weeks was starting to feel routine. The adventure was wearing off a little. I decided I would bring only my guitar and clothes. If I was going to eat, I had to play my guitar – busk – for it.
I was hitchhiking to Montreal, but I left so late the first day I only made it to Moncton, a two hour drive away.
It was about seven p.m. when I got dropped off in Moncton. I walked down Main Street to an underpass, where the down town seemed to fade into residential, then back to where I started — the restaurant with the big lobster in front. There wasn’t much going on in this town. It looked like it might be a difficult night to busk, and I thought about the possibility of a hungry night without dinner. Was it a bad idea not to bring money? I was starting to doubt my adventurous side.