THE (CHI)NESE CONNECTION

Sometimes the best times come from the least planned, least expected events...

Tuesday afternoon, on the way home from school, I got a call from Heather, which I missed. (Heather is a Jamaican friend from Toronto I met a few months ago. Right now, she's like the only Black chick I know in Nagoya, and we were both shocked to find out we live in the same neighborhood, less than 10 minutes apart by foot.)

I get home, check my cell, see Heather's name on the ID. By the time I take a load off and get ready to hit her back, I get another call, this time from Charles. Charles is a DJ homie from L.A. whom I met my first year in Nagoya. He tells me that Common is in town and is doing 2 shows at the Blue Note tonight. There was supposed to be an afterparty at another club, which he invited me to. He also told me he was going to the show, for free, as Heather's VIP "+1" guest. Free? Whoa.

Charles went on to explain how Heather had gone to Common's show the previous night at which the particularly lackluster crowd made Heather and her solo-"I'ma have fun regardless"-dancing draw Com's attention, prompting him to come offstage and perform right in front of her. After the show, Heather met Com, his DJ, and his road crew. They asked her about good local afterspots, to which she suggested a particular Hip-Hop club, to which they invited her as a guest to the following night's show.

Ah, so that's what she called me about.

"So, what's up? Are you coming?" Charles said.

"Man, y'all trying to club on a Tuesday night? I got work in the morning. I dunno...lemme call Heather. I'll let you know," I told him.

I call Heather. She gives me the horse's mouth version of Charles' story. She, too, invites me to the "afterparty."

"Bump an afterparty--I'm trying to see the show! How about hooking a brotha up with some 'VIP guest love?'" I suggested.

"I already put Charles down as my guest," she explained.

"Well, how about a "+2"?"

Heather was skeptical about getting 2 guests in under her name, but she suggested I come to the show anyway. I wasn't trying to pay the 5100 yen(~$50 US) base ticket price (The tickets went as high as 12,000 yen (over $100 US) for stageside seats). Never in life have I paid 50 bucks to see a Hip-Hop show, and never will I. I've seen the best and brightest in the game for $25 MAX--I'm not taking up the Japanese tradition of overpaying for everything.

At first, I was super reluctant to go, but after mulling over the prospect for a few seconds, I finally agreed to go--only on the condition she agree to help me in the door if I came down. She agreed.

Boom. So I get to the Blue Note right around 8:30--the time Heather said she would be there. I didn't see her, so I decided to head in the club to see if she was already inside. I make it downstairs to the admissions area where a couple club staffers with mini-mics and earphones are posted at a tiny lectern with a big reservation book. I walk up, and in straight-up English I say "Hi...I'm on the guestlist...under Heather." The staffguy seemed a bit flustered by the sudden onslaught of English-speaking.

"...Can you tell me the name?" Staffguy asks.

"Heather."

"Uhh, I'm sorry..can you write down name?"

I wrote the name down.

"What is your name?" Staffguy asks.

I tell him my name. "Do you know if Heather's here yet?

"Uhh..No." he replied.

Growing more flustered, he said "Uhh, I don't see your name, could you come over here and wait, please?"

He ushered me into the walkway leading to the main hall. I was confusing them. I think they believed I was supposed to be on the list, even though my name clearly wasn't. To put extra spin on the ball I mentioned I was from Chicago. Don't know if that meant anything to them or not. After waiting for a few moments, a staffgirl appeared.

Staffgirl, who spoke much better English than Staffguy, says,
"Oh, hi. I checked with the road manager, but your name wasn't on her list. Maybe we made a mistake. I'll talk with her again, and see if we can add your name to the list."

Wow. Talk about a Jedi mind trick. They didn't know me from Adam, but just because I was Black, said my name was on the list, and played the part, they were willing to go to lengths to help me in for free. Word.

So, Staffgirl ran off to do her thing. I wanted to call Heather, but I couldn't get reception inside the club, so I told Staffguy I was going upstairs to use my phone.

Heather eventually arrived and we met in front of the club. Before heading back in, I told her the gameplan I'd enacted. She was cool with it, and when we hit the door again, we ran the same play. The staff folk were still deliberating over how they were going to handle our situation and had ushered us off to the side again, when, seconds later, Charles came strolling in with some other Black dude whom neither of us knew. The dude said his name to Staffguy and then waltzed right on in ahead of us, with Charles tailing. Heather and I looked at each other like "What the..?" But right after that Staffguy gestured us in like, "No problem..You're okay, enjoy the show!" Yes! Score 1 for the Away team.

With a big grin on my face, we strode right up in the club, pockets unscathed. That alone had made my night. It turned out that the guy Charles rolled in with was a local musician named Ventura who'd he just met outside of the club. Ventura was on the guestlist too and had a +1 going unused, so he let Charles roll in with him, which allowed easier entry for me.

It was my first time in the Nagoya Blue Note. It was a classy venue, with a mellow, modern look and feel to it. Besides its big circular bar, it had several sections of full of chairs and tables for people to rest easy over cocktails while casually enjoying some smooth tunes--a perfect setting for jazz performances, though, totally inappropriate for a live Hip-Hop show, it seemed. I was skeptical about what kind of audience it would be. Our guest seats were at the bar, where we posted up until showtime, after which we eased over towards the reserved seating area to get a better view of the stage.

The show started promptly at 9:15, busting the calm wide open with Common running out on stage and jumping right into things with a live intro song to hype the crowd. Everybody sprang right up out their seats and got to rockin'. Different from the lackadaisical audience Heather reported from the previous night's show, this crowd acted like real heads. The format of the show was basic, yet classic: one DJ, one MC. One Common formerly known as Sense, plus one DJ Dummy, skilled turntablist and 1998 DMC champ.

We were digging the show, although it was hard to see the stage because there was a huge pillar which was retardedly built right in the middle of the club--so everyone seated behind it could only see half the stage at a time. At one point Charles tried to move closer to the reserved seats for a better view, but there was a staff security guy conveniently posted close to where we were standing to protect the "money seats" from who?--who knows. The show kept rocking and when Com performed "Come Close," he pulled some Japanese chick out the audience and started slow-dancing with her. It was funny, becasue at first Com was trying to talk to her, but she couldn't understood what he was saying, though when he broke into the song and started rapping to her, I watched this chick recite all the lyrics by heart.

About midway through the show, Com slowed things down and started talking about how Hip-Hop has come to influence the world and etc. Then he called out for Japanese emcees to come to the stage and rep their skills. At that moment, I was thinking "Aww snap" and I knew I had to represent for these cats, especially with Chicago in the house. I started hollering "Yo Com, I got this!" over and over, but I guess I was too far in the back for him to hear me. I was the only cat in there hollering out in English, so I figured he'd catch my voice, but he didn't. I tried to edge closer, but the security cat was ice grilling me. I felt my opportunity slipping, as one,...then two Japanese cats bounced up onstage. I couldn't let myself go out off a weak technicality, so at the last second, I pushed past the security dude and started barrelling through the reserved section, making my way towards the stage, still hollering. Finally, Common spotted me and beckoned for me to come up. Score 2 for the Away team!

I popped up onstage and gave Common quick dap before he was like "OK, do y'all thing" while DJ Dummy spun instrumentals. It wasn't really a competition, but it seemed like one. I felt like Eminem in '8 Mile' or something. Com passed off the mic to the first cat, but I think he chickened out cuz he wouldn't take the mic and started waving his hands like "No, I don't wanna do it!" I think he ended up hopping off the stage. So then there were two. Com passed the mic to the next Japanese guy, and he bust his flow. The crowd got hype off of him. I didn't catch a thing he was saying, but I could tell he had skill, cuz of the way his flow was coming off. I just nodded to the music, staying in rhythm, waiting. He did his thing for like a minute then came off the stage. The crowd was ecstatic. I was last and Com passed the mic off to me. I introduced myself real quick and let him know I was from the CHI. He was like "OK" and gave me a pound. I could sense the anticipation from the crowd. It'd been a while since I rocked in front of an audience, so I almost got nervous how I would come off. I felt the adrenaline starting to rush. I took a second to catch the beat, then killed it for almost two minutes. I kicked the first verse of 'Wardance' off the Metalyrical LP. The crowd went ape. Folks at the edge of the stage were hollering, reaching out trying to grab me and whatnot. I was shocked at how hype this predominantly Japanese crowd was. I was thinking "Where y'all been the last 2 years? Not in Nagoya!" It was my first time seeing a crowd of real Japanese Hip-Hop heads with the energy to match. I finished my verse and gave Dummy and Com daps before I hopped off the stage, with guys and girls on both sides of me throwing high fives and daps, including the previous emcee. When I got to my spot in the back, a young Japanese couple standing nearby was clapping and shook my hand, a couple foreigners came up and showed love. It was like I was a rap star for like all of a surreal 10 seconds. I was just pumped I got to rock alongside one of my favorite Hip-Hop artists.

The real star of the show continued his show. Towards the end, I heard some girl in the crowd holler out "Chicago," so I hollered "Where you at?" The Japanese folks looked confused--they didn't know what was going on. The show ended on a high note, but it wasn't the end of the night. Heather was supposed to meet up with Com and his crew afterwards, so we all just mingled, while Commnon signed autographs in the lounge area. Before I left the club, I ended up meeting several "new" Black folks who lived in the Nagoya area, including the chick who hollered out "Chicago" during the show--Jennifer. Originally from Ohio, Jennifer graduated from Northwestern, thus why she repped the CHI. She works for the JET Program as a translator up in Gifu City. I rapped with her for awhile, before we met Com's roadies at the bar. Two of those guys were Chicago natives, so it felt like the Chicago Connection for a second. I almost forgot where I was when heads started reminiscing over Giordano's Pizza and Cheescake Factory!

The roadies started asking about afterspots, but I told them they probably wouldn't have much luck on a Tuesday night--nothing good's popping on Tuesday nights. Soon after, the club cleared out and it was just us, club staff, and a few lingering showgoers getting autographs. Everybody was waiting for Com to finish signing and taking pictures so we could leave. The guys went to start loading the equipment, so Heather, two of her friends, and I went over to the lounge right as the autographs finished up. I got a chance to talk to Com briefly. I went up and gave him daps. He told me I was good, and asked me how long I'd been in Japan and what I was doing. When I said I was a schoolteacher, he gave me dap again. He went off and Com's road manager, a kinda young, heavyset sista with short-cropped hair came out and let us know that the plans had changed for the night. Now, they wanted to go bowling--it was kinda funny how they went from wanting to tear up da club to tearing up da bowling pins, but we were down with it, so the road manager told us to trail their van in a taxi after they finished loading up their show equipment.

"Trail your van in a taxi?!" I felt like the road manager was trying to play us like some groupies; I mean, the night before Common had personally asked Heather and some peoples to come out and kick it, not chase vans around the city. So at first, I was like "Y'all got any room in the van?," but they were packed pretty tightly, so they couldn't accomodate our group of 4. The plan was to drop the sound equipment off at their hotel then head to the bowling alley. I was in a good mood, plus none of us were driving, so I didn't trip and just went with the flow. We followed them in a taxi to the Nagoya Hilton which, luckily for us, was only about a mile away. We got to the hotel, hopped out and started heading towards the van parked at the hotel entrance, when the road manager came strutting over.

"Sorry, there's been a change of plans...the guys have their girls so they're gonna stay in and..."

Bogus. We got our bowling party intercepted by some ol' stank groupies. They were foreign girls to boot, not Japanese (I guess Common's over Erykah. Ha.) I should've seen that coming a mile away, but either way, I had had my fun for the night, so I laughed it off--though I think Heather might've been a little salty since she'd been personally invited to hang with Com and crew. Actually, I was kinda relieved since I had work the next morning, and didn't need to be hanging out at ungodly hours anyhow.

We called it a night, but not before the four of us stopped for a drink at a nearby British-style pub. We chopped it up til closing time, then bounced. The subway had long since stopped, so Heather and I shared a cab home.

Epilogue: Poor Charles had left the Blue Note ahead of us to rally up heads at another club for the "Common Show Afterparty." Litlle did he know it wasn't to be. Doh! Hope he wasn't upset at Heather. Afterall, it wasn't her fault. When in doubt, blame the groupies!

ONE FOR THE "GENIUS"

To an American great...Ray Charles (Robinson)

R.I.P. September 23, 1930 - June 10, 2004

FRESH PRINCE OF NAGOYA

Every once in a baby-blue moon, and to my great surprise, some random Japanese stranger (almost always a guy) musters gall from some unknown source to strike up a conversation with me in public.

I was riding the ever-crowded morning train on the way to work, standing of course, when I noticed some guy who was facing me, to my left, staring me in the face. I didn't think this was unusual, as I often receive stares from train passengers. I find it rude and annoying, so I usually just stare back until they stop. This is usually an effective method.

However, when I caught this guy continuously staring out the corner of my eye. I began to stare back at him. He looked fairly not old, probably in his mid to late 30s, hair still black. To my surprise, it seemed he was trying to get my attention, and he tried to strike up a conversation with me, in English:

"Oh..hi..Where are you from?" he said.

Rather presumptive of him. How did he know I spoke English? I've found via my many encounters with Japanese people that many tend to think that all foreigners in Japan speak English. Many do, however, this isn't always the case.

"The United States." I replied.

"Do you work in Japan?" he continued.

"Yes."

"What is your work?"

"I'm a junior high school teacher."

"Really? I teach junior high school, too!"

"Is that right...what do you teach? I inquired.

"What do you think I teach?" he challenged.

Looking him over, "Mm..I dunno...history?" I guessed.

"No. I teach math."

"Ah. That's nice" I said, acting interested.

"You look like Will Smith."

I must've given this guy a look like "Are you serious? Gimme a break." I thought he could've tried a little harder than that. I don't look JACK like a Will Smith. I mean, we're not even the same complexion. C'mon guy, I know we all look alike, but dang.

"Are you serious?"

"You don't think so?"

"Mm, naw. I don't."

I suppose the guy was trying to create a compliment, so I didn't make a thing of it. Though, if some white person had made the same comment in the States, I probably would've told them to get outtta my face. With all the Black faces floating around the U.S., they would know better than to make such a comparison.

We continued our very brief conversation until the next stop where he got off, where I bid him goodbye and a good day.

Will Smith, though? ...Only in Japan.

THE "SCHOOL VISIT"

So, it was a pretty normal day, save for the fact that it wasn't. I worked at JHS, and we had what translates to English as a "school visit," which happens two or three times per school year. A school visit is when resident teachers plus bigwigs from the local board of ed. come to observe and evaluate classroom lessons taught for all subjects. Some teachers tend to wig out around the time of such visits, because the lessons taught on that particular day have to be prepared, written and explained weeks in advance in order to be published in a big "school visit book" which the school distributes to its teachers and visitors on the big day.

I had only one class scheduled for the day, with the 1st year students (7th graders), co-taught with Ms. Takeuchi, a young English teacher, probably in her very early 30's. The whole school visit ordeal didn't particularly faze me; being a lowly foreigner of no great significance tends to relieve pressure in these types of situations. However, Ms. Takeuchi was a fumbly and fidgety wreck. The week prior we'd almost bumped heads over the lesson preparation--the problem was that she'd totally planned the lesson by herself without consulting my English "expertise," which would've been okay if her English didn't totally suck. The English grammar she was trying to teach for the lesson was jacked up, and I couldn't understand half of it. When I politely suggested some necessary corrections, she got defensive and started trying to blame me for asking too many questions about the class. I was like "Slow your roll. I have to ask questions, because I don't understand what the hell you're doing, and you're gonna screw this whole lesson up with your retarded English!" That's what I was thinking anyway. What I actually said was much more tactful. I grew a bit annoyed talking to her, but instead of screaming on her, which obviously would've made things worse, I let the cooler side of my brain prevail and somehow managed to convince her to take my suggestions with little contest. As a result, the class came off pretty OK and we didn't look like complete idiots in front of the guests.

Learning a foreign language is interesting; after a period of time, your brain starts to accept the strange sounds it receives as normal and you can actually understand what the heck people are saying. In the afternoon, we had a big teachers meeting reviewing the lesson we'd taught earlier. All teachers were solicited for opinions and commentary about the class, including myself, which I found I was able to give mostly in Japanese. In past meetings I would just zone out because nobody was speaking English, so I didn't have a clue what was going on. But at that meeting, while even some of the Japanese teachers looked bored out of their minds, I kept my interest sparked by trying to follow everyone's comments. I was kinda surprised I could capture the gist of what most were saying. I guess my listening comp. and vocab have improved alot over the past year. Yay.

ONE FOR THE GIPPER

I know I've been neglecting this blog for the past month or so, but nothing particularly eventful's been going on as of late on this side. I guess that's a good thing. School's going pretty well, domestic life is cool. Health is good, etc., etc.

So Reagan kicked the bucket. Boo freaking hoo. No disrespect to the dead, but judging from the news I'm reading and hearing, some Americans have been going overboard parading his body from coast to coast like he was some sort of hero, saint. Puh-lease.

Reagan was one of the most crooked crooks to get in the White House, predecessor to the malevolent Bush I, greatly responsible for so much death and misery domestically and abroad. He was a racist and compulsive liar. This fool said Dr. Martin Luther King was a Communist. Not that communism is neccesarily a bad thing, but he tried to defame the liberal movement while feeding multiple mistruths to our nation. Reagan crushed affirmative action at home, pampered the rich, drove unemployment to record heights, ignored the AIDS epidemic, helped fund bloody coups and dictatorships in countries including Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Iraq(one of the reasons we're in deep doo-doo today), and ran the federal deficit to unprecedented depths. And the list goes on and on. So I'll miss Reagan about as much I'll miss Jherri curls. Meaning: I won't. They need to stop parading his corpse around the country like he's some saint and dump his butt in a landfill somewhere. I say good riddins Gipper and take your Bush cronies with you to whatever realm of torment and spiritual discord you're headed. Rest in pieces!

How's that for a eulogy?

Green tea for all.