We definitely won the bar crawl
Osaka Travel Blog› entry 87 of 93 › view all entries
August 24th, 2008 – by: skitzcw
The bar was overflowing with music, laughter, and dirty jokes. A classic Irish bar in the middle of Osaka? Where did they get all of those white people? Anyway, the mixed company was a relief from the usual slurs of inaudible Japanese tongue. This night fit any ordinary bar atmosphere, but I saw someone I didn’t think I would see in my lifetime again.
One month earlier… Dotombori was a major tourist attraction because of its large selection of food and slutty girls. Chris and I lived the life of New York models and walked around the clubs like we owned the place. We were outside taking a breath of air that didn’t smell like sweat, smoke, alcohol, and foreigners, when we bumped into a drunken German guy. He wore a white bandana, cheap sunglasses, a black sleeveless shirt, army boots, and camouflage pants. He stumbled by us and started a casual conversation with Chris because he looked the most like a gai-jin. These random meetings of “the fellow white people in Japan” club happen often. In some cases, you pass by discretely with a CIA-type nod, and in others, you actually shake hands and vent quickly about cultural frustrations.
He still wore the same camouflage pants and bandana from the night I remember him. In fact, it looked as if he was placed into a time machine and warped to the future (my current present) to kill me, save me, or send me an important message. I was already so drunk that I waited for the moment he would reveal his true agenda. Unfortunately, there was nothing this exciting to plunge my story ahead, nor am I creative enough to make up something ridiculous, so I’ll just tell it as it was – a story of a bar scavenger hunt.
Very quickly, my Japanese casual drinking graduate group evolved into a group of four white males with Japanese girlfriends. It was odd seeing the similar trend of Asian fever. I had joined a winning team of motivated and dedicated drinkers. The game plan in their minds was to win the bar crawl and get the first prize of an open bar at the end location. This was very different from my game plan of getting drunk and literally crawling around Osaka. Their version involved a lot more walking than drinking. It seemed like we spent 70% of the time on foot from place to place and then a maximum of 10 minutes to get a stamp, buy a beer, and chug. We rushed and we won, technically.
However, according to the person organizing this whole thing, we didn’t.
We spent the rest of the night completely pissed off and finishing a complimentary bottle of champagne from the second place prize. Much of the conversation consisted of anger and frustrations focused on different ways to torture and kill the person organizing the event.
I guess I can’t complain too much because it turned out to be a ridiculously fun night of sharing stories and making new friends. I talked to a philosophy professor most of the time, and I followed his train of thoughts through the excitement of the night’s events. Even if he didn’t tell me what he did, I knew he could only be a philosopher by his extreme persistence to read into every action and calculate every perspective.
First mistake: He made exceptions to his own rule and didn’t tell us about it until we lost. Second mistake: He insulted us by saying that we weren’t aggressive enough to inform him of our progress. Third mistake: He didn’t try to comfort us in any way by offering our money back or treating us to a round of drinks. Even though he was completely trashed, I would have expected a courtesy of reciprocation and humiliation by any human being at his age. All he had to say was, “Look, I made a huge mistake for not letting you know about this earlier.
~See Lemons Win Anyway
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