After I finally made it home from my Osaka trip, I'd vowed to dive into my bed, 1) because I was beat, and 2) I wanted to have enough energy to make it to capoeira class that evening, but the whole sleeping thing wasn't to be. After I took a shower and threw some clothes in the machine, I was hungry than a mug, so I had to make a stack of my famous Sunday morning banana pancakes to quell the hunger pangs. I read my e-mail, then ended up watching the Fight Club dvd Aaron had rented. That put me somewhere around 4-something, when I finally decided to lay down and rest. I ended up knocking off for about an hour when my phone rang. It was Erin from the gym. She'd just gotten off work and wanted to specify directions on how to get to capoeira class. I'm glad she called because I think I would have overslept otherwise.
I got up and got ready to go. I ended up being a little late, but it was OK because Z hadn't started class yet anyway; when I first started capoeira back in the summer, people told me that Z ran on "Brazilian Time." I had to laugh when I heard that, because they weren't aware of CP Time!
I said hi to Erin, who'd made it okay and was sitting on the side onlooking. We started class with a roda to practice playing instruments. I was empty-handed, so at first I stood there only clapping the rhythms. I went to look for a tambourine, but there were none left. Z went over and handed me his spare berimbau . He just told me "Ganbatte," the Japanese version of "Good luck." We rejoined the roda and began playing again. I had absolutley no idea what I was doing, so I just followed along by sight. It was my first time playing, so I was all into it, even though I have like zero skill with the berimbau. I wasn't sure how bad I sounded because I couldn't hear my playing over the din of everyone else. The berimbau is a great instrument; I definitely have to get one one day. The rest of class was spent practicing sequenced moves, which were really tough; it was basically like doing strength conditioning exercises. Though, I could tell that my legs had gotten a lot stronger in the past 2 weeks, as I didn't fatigue as quickly as before. I guess those mid-week practices paid off.
After a while, I noticed Erin had bounced. I wonder if she was intimidated by our workout, bored, or just had to be somewhere. I'm sure I'll bump into her again to find out what the deal was. Axe!
Feb 23, 2004
Feb 21, 2004
OSAKA ESCAPADE
Friday evening, Richard called me up. He'd just gotten out the hospital, and said that he'd been unconscious for about 10 hours, once they gave him the anesthetic. He had his wisdom tooth extracted and had to get 2 stitches to close the wound, plus more antibiotics to prevent infection. Dang.
We talked briefly about the following day's trip, before I went to the gym to work on some capoeira moves. It's gotten a little warmer over the past two weeks, so I've been feeling more inclined to go workout after I get off work. I usually workout with Thomas, but he couldn't make it because he didn't have enough money for train fare--poor dude is really struggling right about now.
While I was exercising, Erin, the white Canadian girl I met last week, saw me exercising and came and talked to me for a bit. She said she was still interested in coming to check out capoeira class and asked me for my number so she could call me for directions. I think it'd be cool if she decides to join, since currently there are just 2 English-speaking Westerners in our group, and only 1 non-Japanese female; It'd be nice to diversify our group a bit more.
Later that night, I hooked up with Richard. He wanted me to roll with him to ID Bar, the biggest, busiest, so-called "best" club in Nagoya. So-called. He was supposed to meet with the managers to discuss some deejaying work they were soliciting him to do. Richard was skeptical and wasn't really banking on any special offers. I'd already been through the hassle of trying to perform at that club before and had no particular business of my own, so I was just tagging along for the heck of it. When we arrived, we saw the managers out front talking to some people. We said whatsup to one of the managers, a white-American guy named Thomas. Richard was supposed to talk the Japanese manager, Hara, but he was busy at the time, so Thomas let us in the club for free to hang out while we waited--which was cool, because I wasn't trying to pay the 3000 yen (about US $30) cover to get in.
I hadn't been to ID in months, but it was about as lame as I remember, particularly because of the lackluster resident deejays. On the Hip-Hop floor, I ran into some people I knew, including engineering students Mark and Keith. I ran into one of the old staffgirls from my company who'd recovered from a serious car accident last spring. We talked and hit the dancefloor to party it up for about an hour or so, but I wasn't feeling the vibe, just forcing myself to dance. Richard and I got bored and decided to bounce early. When we left, Richard couldn't find the manager, so we ended up just leaving, going back to chill at his place. I was super-hungry so Richard cooked up some Kraft Cheese & Macaroni straight out of the box. Man, that hit the spot. I hadn't had Kraft Cheese & Macaraoni in years. Richard was messing around on his computer, it had gotten pretty late, and I'd gotten pretty tired waiting for him to take me back home. He'd gotten pretty tired too, so he suggested I just sleep on his couch and leave with him in the morn. I hadn't brought any gear for the overnight trip to O-town so I had to go back home. He dropped me off around 4am, then told me we were supposed to meet again at 8am. Yeah, right...
...Obviously, that didn't happen. We both woke up late, and he had a school-related engagement in the morning, so plans changed and we didn't meet up until the afternoon. After some errands, we finally hit the road to Osaka. After about 3 hours on the road, we got there around 6pm-ish. Osaka was bigger than I remembered, it has a nice skyline with a huge river which runs through the city and the downtown streets are surprisingly wide, making it resemble a major U.S. city. We hit up a couple music and music equipment shops, before going back to his girl's (one of them) house for dinner around 9p. I hadn't eaten since that morning, so I was starvin' like Marvin. Richard, who loves to cook, whipped up some popcorn chicken, mashed potatoes, and stir-fried veggies, which were quite tasty. After the meal, we napped for about an hour to charge up before we went to the club. I dozed off right at the dinner table. We woke up around 11p and headed to Sam & Dave's in the Shinsaibashi district. (S&D's is a club franchise in Osaka that has about 5 clubs citywide, although the Shinsaibashi S&D's caters primarily to the Hip-Hop crowd.)
We hit the club around 11:30-ish and walked right in for free on the strength of DJ Black (Richard's deejay alias). Right away I noticed the vibe was totally different from any club I'd been to in Nagoya. People seemed way more laid-back and were just mellowed out. I wasn't catching shady looks from wannabe J-boys. There were a lot of J-kids rocking athletic jerseys and trucker hats. I suppose that's the latest trend--I can't keep up. They had foreign bartenders on staff, male and female, which I've never seen in Nagoya. There were quite a few brothas in the house too. I presumed most of them were African. Richard introduced me to some heads, including the manager, some chicks, and a couple djs. One of the djs, Jeff Daniels, was a poplockin' member of the original late-70's pop R&B group, Shalamar, with Jody Watley and Howard Hewett. I was kinda shocked to see dude was working there. Dude is like 45 years old, but he didn't look so old, in there kicking it hard with the youngsters. He was even busting moves on the dancefloor. I guess if you're ever wondering what happened to some once-famous Black musicians, check Japan!The music and djs were pretty tight. They spun a lot of stuff--there was a female dj from Tokyo, and she was on point. She would put any of the djs I've seen in Nagoya to shame. They played Dre and Snoop and the J-kids started throwing up their "W's," as always. Another surprise was when some dudes got on the mic, announcing that K-Ci and Jo Jo, of Jodeci, were in the house. Apparently, they'd just done a show in Osaka and had stopped through. I thought they were lying at first, because I didn't see the cats myself, and when they said that, we were looking around the club trying to spot them. Richard claimed to have seen them later on chilling in the cut at a table surrounded by security guards, but I never saw them.
The club got jumping quickly after midnight, and we partied it up on the dancefloor. Everyone seemed to be vibing and having a good time together, unlike many Nagoya clubgoers, who tend to segregate themselves. Richard's set wasn't scheduled until 4a, so in the meantime, he was on the mic like Funkmaster Flex, hyping the crowd to the music. In the end, Richard didn't spin at all, because he realized he had to be back in Nagoya by 8a to play in a baseball game. The crazy thing was that he still got paid just for showing up, including gas and tolls. Sweet. We left the club shortly after 4, and outside the club, we met some ghettofab little Korean-Japanese chick who spoke English pretty fluently. She wore a nose stud with her hair half-cornrowed and claimed to have lived in So. Cali for a while, where she worked in a beauty shop doing "hurr and neels." I was like, "You went all the way to the U.S. to do hair and nails?!" She said she hung out with Black folks in Cali and they called her "a sista." She got to arguing with Richard about her dislike for Americans, yet claimed she loved California. She was hilarious.
Finally, we gassed up and hit the road around 5a. The roads were clear, so the drive back was only about 2 hours. By that point I was completely beat and couldn't keep my eyes open more than 20 seconds at a time. We stopped back at Richard's and took a brief nap before linking up with some of his folks to go to their Sunday morning baseball game. I was so tired, I just wanted to go home and pass out, but I had to sit out half-asleep in the drizzling rain and cold watching them play baseball until 12:30p. Richard is a machine. I called him the "Terminator," because I couldn't understand where he found the energy to play ball after being awake for a day and having driven both ways on his own. I didn't get home until around 1p. It was a 24-hour adventure indeed. Definitely gotta do it again.
We talked briefly about the following day's trip, before I went to the gym to work on some capoeira moves. It's gotten a little warmer over the past two weeks, so I've been feeling more inclined to go workout after I get off work. I usually workout with Thomas, but he couldn't make it because he didn't have enough money for train fare--poor dude is really struggling right about now.
While I was exercising, Erin, the white Canadian girl I met last week, saw me exercising and came and talked to me for a bit. She said she was still interested in coming to check out capoeira class and asked me for my number so she could call me for directions. I think it'd be cool if she decides to join, since currently there are just 2 English-speaking Westerners in our group, and only 1 non-Japanese female; It'd be nice to diversify our group a bit more.
Later that night, I hooked up with Richard. He wanted me to roll with him to ID Bar, the biggest, busiest, so-called "best" club in Nagoya. So-called. He was supposed to meet with the managers to discuss some deejaying work they were soliciting him to do. Richard was skeptical and wasn't really banking on any special offers. I'd already been through the hassle of trying to perform at that club before and had no particular business of my own, so I was just tagging along for the heck of it. When we arrived, we saw the managers out front talking to some people. We said whatsup to one of the managers, a white-American guy named Thomas. Richard was supposed to talk the Japanese manager, Hara, but he was busy at the time, so Thomas let us in the club for free to hang out while we waited--which was cool, because I wasn't trying to pay the 3000 yen (about US $30) cover to get in.
I hadn't been to ID in months, but it was about as lame as I remember, particularly because of the lackluster resident deejays. On the Hip-Hop floor, I ran into some people I knew, including engineering students Mark and Keith. I ran into one of the old staffgirls from my company who'd recovered from a serious car accident last spring. We talked and hit the dancefloor to party it up for about an hour or so, but I wasn't feeling the vibe, just forcing myself to dance. Richard and I got bored and decided to bounce early. When we left, Richard couldn't find the manager, so we ended up just leaving, going back to chill at his place. I was super-hungry so Richard cooked up some Kraft Cheese & Macaroni straight out of the box. Man, that hit the spot. I hadn't had Kraft Cheese & Macaraoni in years. Richard was messing around on his computer, it had gotten pretty late, and I'd gotten pretty tired waiting for him to take me back home. He'd gotten pretty tired too, so he suggested I just sleep on his couch and leave with him in the morn. I hadn't brought any gear for the overnight trip to O-town so I had to go back home. He dropped me off around 4am, then told me we were supposed to meet again at 8am. Yeah, right...
...Obviously, that didn't happen. We both woke up late, and he had a school-related engagement in the morning, so plans changed and we didn't meet up until the afternoon. After some errands, we finally hit the road to Osaka. After about 3 hours on the road, we got there around 6pm-ish. Osaka was bigger than I remembered, it has a nice skyline with a huge river which runs through the city and the downtown streets are surprisingly wide, making it resemble a major U.S. city. We hit up a couple music and music equipment shops, before going back to his girl's (one of them) house for dinner around 9p. I hadn't eaten since that morning, so I was starvin' like Marvin. Richard, who loves to cook, whipped up some popcorn chicken, mashed potatoes, and stir-fried veggies, which were quite tasty. After the meal, we napped for about an hour to charge up before we went to the club. I dozed off right at the dinner table. We woke up around 11p and headed to Sam & Dave's in the Shinsaibashi district. (S&D's is a club franchise in Osaka that has about 5 clubs citywide, although the Shinsaibashi S&D's caters primarily to the Hip-Hop crowd.)
We hit the club around 11:30-ish and walked right in for free on the strength of DJ Black (Richard's deejay alias). Right away I noticed the vibe was totally different from any club I'd been to in Nagoya. People seemed way more laid-back and were just mellowed out. I wasn't catching shady looks from wannabe J-boys. There were a lot of J-kids rocking athletic jerseys and trucker hats. I suppose that's the latest trend--I can't keep up. They had foreign bartenders on staff, male and female, which I've never seen in Nagoya. There were quite a few brothas in the house too. I presumed most of them were African. Richard introduced me to some heads, including the manager, some chicks, and a couple djs. One of the djs, Jeff Daniels, was a poplockin' member of the original late-70's pop R&B group, Shalamar, with Jody Watley and Howard Hewett. I was kinda shocked to see dude was working there. Dude is like 45 years old, but he didn't look so old, in there kicking it hard with the youngsters. He was even busting moves on the dancefloor. I guess if you're ever wondering what happened to some once-famous Black musicians, check Japan!The music and djs were pretty tight. They spun a lot of stuff--there was a female dj from Tokyo, and she was on point. She would put any of the djs I've seen in Nagoya to shame. They played Dre and Snoop and the J-kids started throwing up their "W's," as always. Another surprise was when some dudes got on the mic, announcing that K-Ci and Jo Jo, of Jodeci, were in the house. Apparently, they'd just done a show in Osaka and had stopped through. I thought they were lying at first, because I didn't see the cats myself, and when they said that, we were looking around the club trying to spot them. Richard claimed to have seen them later on chilling in the cut at a table surrounded by security guards, but I never saw them.
The club got jumping quickly after midnight, and we partied it up on the dancefloor. Everyone seemed to be vibing and having a good time together, unlike many Nagoya clubgoers, who tend to segregate themselves. Richard's set wasn't scheduled until 4a, so in the meantime, he was on the mic like Funkmaster Flex, hyping the crowd to the music. In the end, Richard didn't spin at all, because he realized he had to be back in Nagoya by 8a to play in a baseball game. The crazy thing was that he still got paid just for showing up, including gas and tolls. Sweet. We left the club shortly after 4, and outside the club, we met some ghettofab little Korean-Japanese chick who spoke English pretty fluently. She wore a nose stud with her hair half-cornrowed and claimed to have lived in So. Cali for a while, where she worked in a beauty shop doing "hurr and neels." I was like, "You went all the way to the U.S. to do hair and nails?!" She said she hung out with Black folks in Cali and they called her "a sista." She got to arguing with Richard about her dislike for Americans, yet claimed she loved California. She was hilarious.
Finally, we gassed up and hit the road around 5a. The roads were clear, so the drive back was only about 2 hours. By that point I was completely beat and couldn't keep my eyes open more than 20 seconds at a time. We stopped back at Richard's and took a brief nap before linking up with some of his folks to go to their Sunday morning baseball game. I was so tired, I just wanted to go home and pass out, but I had to sit out half-asleep in the drizzling rain and cold watching them play baseball until 12:30p. Richard is a machine. I called him the "Terminator," because I couldn't understand where he found the energy to play ball after being awake for a day and having driven both ways on his own. I didn't get home until around 1p. It was a 24-hour adventure indeed. Definitely gotta do it again.
Feb 18, 2004
DOH!
I cracked my noggin pretty good at school yesterday: It was right after 3rd period, and I was half-blindly walking down the hall while I was correcting some student's papers. I'm so used to just coasting under the 6 foot sliding door to the teacher's room, that I totally took it for granted, walked in blindly while looking down at the work in my hands and...
THWAP!
Ooh, that felt heavenly. Especially, when the blood started trickling down the side of my head. The sound was loud enough to make a few teachers' heads turn, including the principal, who made a wincing face and gesture toward his head, along with a couple other teachers who just made wincing faces like "Ooh, I know that hurt like hell." I think only one person actually asked if I was OK, but nobody offered to fetch a band-aid or anything, even when they watched me walk over to grab a kleenex to staunch the bleeding*. I didn't cry though. Not a tear. I didn't even tell the school nurse. I just sucked it up like the soldier that I be and prepared for my next class. *(In case you're wondering, it wasn't a serious wound, just a small surface wound on the top of my dome.)
In the evening, I met up with Thomas at the local gym for some capoiera practice. I got a nice little workout, broke a sweat and whatnot. Thomas is still jobless, visaless. He wants to continue capoeira, but Z told him he has to pay up some cash for this week's sessions, but dude is dead broke. Dunno what he's gonna do about that. Glad I'm not in that situation.
Richard called me up before I went to the gym. He's going into the hospital tomorrow for his dental surgery. He's going under anesthesia and has to stay overnight--just for a doggone tooth. Japanese hospitals love to in-patient people. I won't be talking to him 'til he gets released on Friday, but it looks like I'm gonna be rolling with him for sure down to Osaka this weekend. Looking forward to kicking it in the 'O' for the first time.
THWAP!
Ooh, that felt heavenly. Especially, when the blood started trickling down the side of my head. The sound was loud enough to make a few teachers' heads turn, including the principal, who made a wincing face and gesture toward his head, along with a couple other teachers who just made wincing faces like "Ooh, I know that hurt like hell." I think only one person actually asked if I was OK, but nobody offered to fetch a band-aid or anything, even when they watched me walk over to grab a kleenex to staunch the bleeding*. I didn't cry though. Not a tear. I didn't even tell the school nurse. I just sucked it up like the soldier that I be and prepared for my next class. *(In case you're wondering, it wasn't a serious wound, just a small surface wound on the top of my dome.)
In the evening, I met up with Thomas at the local gym for some capoiera practice. I got a nice little workout, broke a sweat and whatnot. Thomas is still jobless, visaless. He wants to continue capoeira, but Z told him he has to pay up some cash for this week's sessions, but dude is dead broke. Dunno what he's gonna do about that. Glad I'm not in that situation.
Richard called me up before I went to the gym. He's going into the hospital tomorrow for his dental surgery. He's going under anesthesia and has to stay overnight--just for a doggone tooth. Japanese hospitals love to in-patient people. I won't be talking to him 'til he gets released on Friday, but it looks like I'm gonna be rolling with him for sure down to Osaka this weekend. Looking forward to kicking it in the 'O' for the first time.
Feb 8, 2004
DISCO AMBASSADOR
After Capoeira practice last night, about 15 of us decided to go for dinner. We rolled to an Italian restaurant called the Spaghetti Factory. It was the first time I'd ever heard of or been to this restaurant, but apparently it's a franchise from the U.S. Thomas, the only other American in our group told me he'd actually been to the one in Chicago.
The restaurant was pretty decent, for about US $14 I got a spaghetti set which included a salad, drink, and a medium-sized plate of spaghetti. There was also "unlimited" complimentary hard crust Italian bread and super thin crust cheese pizza. I had a had a satisfactory amount to eat, which is a rare occurrence eating out in Japan.
After dinner, outside the restaurant, we were all talking a bit before we said our goodbyes for the night, and one of the Japanese girls in our group, made an offhand comment. Noticing that I was dressed in all-black, she pointed at my hat and said "black," then she gestured toward my jacket and said "black," next she pointed at my pants and said "black." Lastly, looking at me, she pointed towards her own face and said "black." I kinda looked at her sideways for a second. Now, this particular girl is really sweet and nice, so I know her comment was absolutely innocent. I just took it as her trying to say something cutesy. But I had to correct her with a little counter-conditioning; I pointed at my face and said "brown." She repeated "brown" after me. That whole little sidebar just reminded me how far and wide that the bent notions of race and color have spread. I've had kids at school point to my skin and say "black," yet when I asked them what color their own skin was, they would say "flesh tone." But the average American redneck would call any Asian person "yellow." Wrong again. It's all about perception.
Anyway, after dinner about 5 of us guys decided to hit the club. Only one of the guys was Japanese though. There was him, us 2 Americans and 2 Brazilians, including our instructor, Z. It was the first time for me to hang out with Z outside of class. Seeing how I'm not a big clubgoer, I was more or less tagging along with them. Someone decided to roll to some really lame, pretentious club called J Maxx that I'd been to once when I first got to Japan. Actually, it was the very first club I ever went to Nagoya. I'd almost forgotten the place because I hadn't been back since the first time. After we got there and paid a ridiculous 2,500 yen cover to get in, the memories of lameness came all rushing back to me. I ran into a DJ head I knew back from Radix, the foreigner-unfriendly club I'd performed at in the fall of 2002. Charles, from LA, had been deejaying well at Radix for a while, but never got his props there, and eventually left and had been gigging at this smaller, lamer club ever since. I hadn't seen this guy in over a year, but it was the same story from before: the Japanese management and promoters didn't wanna give him a chance to shine, even though they know he got skills, etc. etc." It's a shame to hear the same tale all this time later. I mean, he'd even opened for the Roots when they came to the Blue Note in Nagoya--how many more credentials does one need to get put on properly?
Anyway, there were two rooms in J Maxx: a small room full of pretentious people that spins HipHop, and then there's a big room full of pretentious people playing techno and retro pop dance music. We were bouncing back and forth between the two rooms, and at one point my crew was all in the big, wack techno room. I'm approaching the bar trying to get a drink and there's like three layers of people waiting to order. There were plenty of foreigners in the house. I ran into a Hungarian dude that I knew from my company, and we said whatsup. I'm standing near my white American capoeira buddy, Thomas, and we're chatting a bit, then out of nowhere, some stocky white guy near us looks at me and says "Man, how can I get a security job in this place" rhetorically, I thought. Trying to offer a clue, I said "You probably should holler at management." So then he says "Really? How the [insert expletive] did you get the job?" Eh?
It took a second for it to sink in that he actually thought I was security staff. Maybe it was by black clothing, or maybe it was the keychain around my neck. Now, I'm a fair-sized guy, but I wouldn't think someone would mistake my physique for that of a bouncer's, especially considering this guy was bigger than I was. Thomas and I chuckled before I let the guy know he made a mistake. I wasn't really offended, but Thomas made light of the fact that this white guy assumed that I (Black man) was working security. The guy was pretty embarassed by his mistake, and began apologizing profusely. I told him it was cool and shrugged it off. I think his assumption had more to do with my overall appearance rather than me being Black.
So after I finally got my drink, I found Z standing near the dancefloor by himself. He looked kind of bored so I thought I'd just hang with him for a minute to keep him company. We were standing there people-watching (re: girl-watching) for a minute, when some white British chick walked by. I forget how their conversation started, but Z went into instant Mack-mode. Personally, I thought the chick was A-IGHT looking and wouldn't have paid her any particular mind under normal circumstances, but Z was all into this girl. The only problem was that they were speaking two different languages: she was speaking English, and he was speaking Japanese, neither understanding what the other was saying. So, for the sake of keeping the situation from becoming a disaster, I kindly intervened to offer translation support. Maybe I should have remained a spectator, because I ended up playing the go-between for Z the rest of the night, as he tried tirelessly to hit on this girl. He had me telling and asking things I didn't really want to be. I had a fair time until the club closed at 2 AM (weak), and through no fault of my own, that British chick ended up hopping in some other dude's car, headed to another club, to Z's dismay. Doh.
The restaurant was pretty decent, for about US $14 I got a spaghetti set which included a salad, drink, and a medium-sized plate of spaghetti. There was also "unlimited" complimentary hard crust Italian bread and super thin crust cheese pizza. I had a had a satisfactory amount to eat, which is a rare occurrence eating out in Japan.
After dinner, outside the restaurant, we were all talking a bit before we said our goodbyes for the night, and one of the Japanese girls in our group, made an offhand comment. Noticing that I was dressed in all-black, she pointed at my hat and said "black," then she gestured toward my jacket and said "black," next she pointed at my pants and said "black." Lastly, looking at me, she pointed towards her own face and said "black." I kinda looked at her sideways for a second. Now, this particular girl is really sweet and nice, so I know her comment was absolutely innocent. I just took it as her trying to say something cutesy. But I had to correct her with a little counter-conditioning; I pointed at my face and said "brown." She repeated "brown" after me. That whole little sidebar just reminded me how far and wide that the bent notions of race and color have spread. I've had kids at school point to my skin and say "black," yet when I asked them what color their own skin was, they would say "flesh tone." But the average American redneck would call any Asian person "yellow." Wrong again. It's all about perception.
Anyway, after dinner about 5 of us guys decided to hit the club. Only one of the guys was Japanese though. There was him, us 2 Americans and 2 Brazilians, including our instructor, Z. It was the first time for me to hang out with Z outside of class. Seeing how I'm not a big clubgoer, I was more or less tagging along with them. Someone decided to roll to some really lame, pretentious club called J Maxx that I'd been to once when I first got to Japan. Actually, it was the very first club I ever went to Nagoya. I'd almost forgotten the place because I hadn't been back since the first time. After we got there and paid a ridiculous 2,500 yen cover to get in, the memories of lameness came all rushing back to me. I ran into a DJ head I knew back from Radix, the foreigner-unfriendly club I'd performed at in the fall of 2002. Charles, from LA, had been deejaying well at Radix for a while, but never got his props there, and eventually left and had been gigging at this smaller, lamer club ever since. I hadn't seen this guy in over a year, but it was the same story from before: the Japanese management and promoters didn't wanna give him a chance to shine, even though they know he got skills, etc. etc." It's a shame to hear the same tale all this time later. I mean, he'd even opened for the Roots when they came to the Blue Note in Nagoya--how many more credentials does one need to get put on properly?
Anyway, there were two rooms in J Maxx: a small room full of pretentious people that spins HipHop, and then there's a big room full of pretentious people playing techno and retro pop dance music. We were bouncing back and forth between the two rooms, and at one point my crew was all in the big, wack techno room. I'm approaching the bar trying to get a drink and there's like three layers of people waiting to order. There were plenty of foreigners in the house. I ran into a Hungarian dude that I knew from my company, and we said whatsup. I'm standing near my white American capoeira buddy, Thomas, and we're chatting a bit, then out of nowhere, some stocky white guy near us looks at me and says "Man, how can I get a security job in this place" rhetorically, I thought. Trying to offer a clue, I said "You probably should holler at management." So then he says "Really? How the [insert expletive] did you get the job?" Eh?
It took a second for it to sink in that he actually thought I was security staff. Maybe it was by black clothing, or maybe it was the keychain around my neck. Now, I'm a fair-sized guy, but I wouldn't think someone would mistake my physique for that of a bouncer's, especially considering this guy was bigger than I was. Thomas and I chuckled before I let the guy know he made a mistake. I wasn't really offended, but Thomas made light of the fact that this white guy assumed that I (Black man) was working security. The guy was pretty embarassed by his mistake, and began apologizing profusely. I told him it was cool and shrugged it off. I think his assumption had more to do with my overall appearance rather than me being Black.
So after I finally got my drink, I found Z standing near the dancefloor by himself. He looked kind of bored so I thought I'd just hang with him for a minute to keep him company. We were standing there people-watching (re: girl-watching) for a minute, when some white British chick walked by. I forget how their conversation started, but Z went into instant Mack-mode. Personally, I thought the chick was A-IGHT looking and wouldn't have paid her any particular mind under normal circumstances, but Z was all into this girl. The only problem was that they were speaking two different languages: she was speaking English, and he was speaking Japanese, neither understanding what the other was saying. So, for the sake of keeping the situation from becoming a disaster, I kindly intervened to offer translation support. Maybe I should have remained a spectator, because I ended up playing the go-between for Z the rest of the night, as he tried tirelessly to hit on this girl. He had me telling and asking things I didn't really want to be. I had a fair time until the club closed at 2 AM (weak), and through no fault of my own, that British chick ended up hopping in some other dude's car, headed to another club, to Z's dismay. Doh.
Feb 2, 2004
EXSQUEEZE ME!
It's February already. Dang. Already a month in the new year has passed. It hasn't really sunk in that it's 2004 yet.
Yesterday morning was interesting--it rained in the morning, which caused delays on the lcoal commuter trains. By the time I got to the station, Aaron was still on the platform, and he leaves a half hour before I do. The platform was loaded with folks, and the incoming trains were so packed, you could barely get on. So it seemed like we were going to be a little late for work. The cool thing is, in Japan, if the commuter trains are late (which they rarely are) the rail company issues "late passes" to working commuters to take to their office to "excuse their tardiness" so to speak. It's kinda neat, and I got one when I finally reached the station near school, although it turned out that I didn't really need beacause I got to school at about my usual time, afterall. So I guess that'll just be a keepsake item.
However, the thing that killed me yesterday morning was the train etiquette, rather lack thereof, of the jam-packed commuters when the trains were overloaded. Like, everybody was stuffing their bodies only into the spaces near the doors, in fultile attempts to get off the train faster at their destinations, meanwhile the aisles were almost completely clear. This kinda pissed me off, because people were having a hard enough time trying to sardine-pack themselves onto the trains, and then because everyone wanted to pack around the doors, some other people couldn't get on, including myself--I'd never seen anything like it, but the people weren't polite or thoughtful enough to smush themselves into the aisles to allow for more space. Everyone just crowded themselves around the doors to jockey for exit position. I found this behavior to be pretty ignorant, and it actually made the trains more late, because it took them 3-4 minutes to get everyone on the trains safely.
When I had to transfer to my second train, it was so packed by the door, there was no space, and I was considering shoving some people so I could get on. But I decided to be a peaceful little foreigner, and just walked down to the next door where I enter the train sideways to jimmy my self into one last nook of space. If my mood had been any different, people woulda got pushed into those aisles. Yeah, people would have been salty, but nobody would have said a word, because they knew they were wrong for blocking up the doorway in the first place. Anyway...
Yesterday morning was interesting--it rained in the morning, which caused delays on the lcoal commuter trains. By the time I got to the station, Aaron was still on the platform, and he leaves a half hour before I do. The platform was loaded with folks, and the incoming trains were so packed, you could barely get on. So it seemed like we were going to be a little late for work. The cool thing is, in Japan, if the commuter trains are late (which they rarely are) the rail company issues "late passes" to working commuters to take to their office to "excuse their tardiness" so to speak. It's kinda neat, and I got one when I finally reached the station near school, although it turned out that I didn't really need beacause I got to school at about my usual time, afterall. So I guess that'll just be a keepsake item.
However, the thing that killed me yesterday morning was the train etiquette, rather lack thereof, of the jam-packed commuters when the trains were overloaded. Like, everybody was stuffing their bodies only into the spaces near the doors, in fultile attempts to get off the train faster at their destinations, meanwhile the aisles were almost completely clear. This kinda pissed me off, because people were having a hard enough time trying to sardine-pack themselves onto the trains, and then because everyone wanted to pack around the doors, some other people couldn't get on, including myself--I'd never seen anything like it, but the people weren't polite or thoughtful enough to smush themselves into the aisles to allow for more space. Everyone just crowded themselves around the doors to jockey for exit position. I found this behavior to be pretty ignorant, and it actually made the trains more late, because it took them 3-4 minutes to get everyone on the trains safely.
When I had to transfer to my second train, it was so packed by the door, there was no space, and I was considering shoving some people so I could get on. But I decided to be a peaceful little foreigner, and just walked down to the next door where I enter the train sideways to jimmy my self into one last nook of space. If my mood had been any different, people woulda got pushed into those aisles. Yeah, people would have been salty, but nobody would have said a word, because they knew they were wrong for blocking up the doorway in the first place. Anyway...
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