First, let me start off with an apology for how late this post is. (/Not actually sorry)
To all the people that read this blog, I know I've kept you waiting with bated breath. (/If you've actually been holding your breath you'd be dead by now. My B)
However, I will finally put down the words on the page. (/No snarky commentary, I just felt this sidebar was necessary for the feng shui)
So, this weeks blogposts are about a few unrelated things:
1) Going home with a Japanese girl
2) Not understanding how bad you are until you're good
3) Masturbation!
This post is about 1)
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Last Friday, the 19th, there was a large welcome party for all of the international students, fittingly held at the international student dormitory. A couple friends and I (RonRon, Matty Fly, SilvySiesta, AnthonyLajoie, Nice-to-meet-you-Mina, Eliza [gomen, no nickname], Genki-Saori, and two guys who I hadn't met) decided to nosh on a quick homemade meal courtesy of Veronica, knock back a few beers, and then head out into the black of the night, hoping to find adventure in the nooks and crannies of this spacious campus. Or, ya know, a bear, because those things live here, too.
It was a good start to the night, neither auspicious nor foreboding: a regular night out.
We trudged down the hill in a pack that swallowed the width of the sidewalk, creating a formidable human wall that not so quietly said, "move." When we arrived at the international dorm we were greeted with signs of life through the windows on the second floor, an open door, and the raucous sounds of a party in full swing.
Everyone shuffled in, paid the $10 fee, dropped their coats off on the chair, and started drinking, mingling, and strutting their stuff. Me, being the incorrigible fucker I am, was unable to defend myself from the waves upon waves of people saying, "TOAST." Drink, after drink, after drink, after drink, after drink.
College didn't prepare me for this.
The worst was when Nice-to-meet-you-Mina went up to the makeshift bar being manned by 3 older Japanese students and returned with glasses filled a 1/3 of the way up, insisting that me and a few others take a shot.
MINA, A SHOT IS REASONABLE AMOUNT OF ALCOHOL THAT YOU CAN DRAIN IN ONE GO. A 1/3 OF A FUCKING SOLO CUP IS NOT A SHOT. THAT IS A SMALL BODIED PERSON'S DRUNKENNESS, AN AVERAGE PERSON'S TIPSY, AND MY DRUNK ASS' DOOM.
Of course I obliged her. Or she obliged me. Something along those lines. However, the night hadn't caught up to me yet and so I still felt peppy and raring to go. I had been on the dance floor for a bit (go check the FB photo, "dancing キング"), but now I was attacking it with a fervor. The dance floor was no longer a friendly place of camaraderie and merriment, but rather a bloodbath of rhythm and body sweat. I stomped my feet, howled to the chorus, swung my hips, and splashed my drink.
// Sidebar //
In case you didn't know, the people that dance at a party in Japan are much smaller in number than those that stand and talk. So, as you might imagine, the space that people can dance in is actually somewhat restricted because everyone else is just standing there. Add to that my larger-than-average size body, and you might start to see the tight situation I was in. This isn't to say that I was the only one dance, or that I was taking up the most space, or that I was the most enthusiastic. No, that honor goes to a 4' 10" girl named Manami, and she is awesome. Cho Genki. Cho Fucking Genki. (This is the same Manami that let me drive her car around for a bit)
// End Sidebar //
However, my body eventually caught on to what was happening within it. I had been able to hoodwink it up until that point with adrenaline and a thumping heartbeat, but finally it removed the veil from its eyes and realized what was happening. I was drunk. Drunk
A quick trip to the bathroom confirmed that. (Don't worry, I cleaned up)
After my short prayer session to the porcelain gods, I returned to the party room visibly drunk. I plopped myself down and started to regret some of the decisions in my life. Why do I ever drink? Why do I drink to excess sometimes? Why do I let small Japanese women cajole me into diving off the deep end into the oblivion that is drunk?
*Friend comes over*
Angela: Are you okay?
Me: Nah, I'm fine (read: I'mmmmmm fffinnne. Nahhhhhhh nahh, yeah, I'm goood.)
...
Me: Seriously, I can go home by myself (read: I'll.... walk home... yeah, yeah yeah yeah. It's fine.)
...
Me: Just a little water, and I'll head on home. (read: blechhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
So, with that encouraging conversation, the oh so wonderful Saki (早紀) took my drunk ass home. On the way up I found myself apologizing and feeling bad that I had possibly ruined her night. She mollified me with assurances that she was actually tired and just wanted to go home.
At some point on the walk back I remember us sitting down on the pavement to watch the stars. Kanazawa has some of the clearest skies I've seen (However, coming from the NY suburbs and Boston, I'm not sure if those are acceptable places to compare to).
And, to wax poetic for a second, the skies here are really picturesque, with some nights so crisp that you can reach out and cup a bit of the heavens in your hand, enjoying the twinkle of hot giants already deceased, their last message a dot in our sky.
And that's how I went home with a Japanese girl. Thanks Saki!
// Sidebar //
Did you really think I was gonna talk about my sex life on a blog? I mean, really? I can be crude, grotesque, and gross at times, but even I understand where to draw the line. Kinda. Maybe. I might write about my sex life if I can successfully pull off the Wookie sound.
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Peace
Graham you absolutely CAN pull off the Wookie sound.
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