स्ट्रिप

Choking down another can of liquid courage I raise the empty vessel and crush it against the wall. A panicky anime otaku rambles loudly on a nearby tube. The dating show he has appeared on has hilariously paired him with a female miles out of his league and left him a nervous wreck. By "hilarious" I mean funny only to the Japanese. I, on the other hand, remain thoroughly unamused.

"Couldn't a bar in the center of Osaka do better than lousy prime time and 1 dart board for entertainment? For christsakes I just got served a beer still in the can!" I toss the wrinkled shrapnel over the bar and into their trash can - spill a few 100 yen on the table and stumble into another stale night.

Steam from the road grates smear the red and yellow car lights streaking through the tar. A salaryman kicks his mate's ass and sends him a few feet into the path of a marauding taxi. He merely veers and gives a quick honk. Meanwhile the man's friend laughs heartily and attempts to drag his friend along with him as though it were just as casual as falling into a pool together.

I pour through a crowd of expressionless hosts in shinsaibashi. Here they dawdle, playing with their hair, and staring

into window reflections. All Self obsessed and repeating pick up lines in their head. Turning the corner at the end of the street I collide with a wedding party that has just spilled out into the street.

The groom is being held up over the heads of the groomsmen. In the background one goes down on his side and pumps out a fresh stream of vomit as though his stomach were a squeeze bottle. His girlfriend apathetically removes his 五万円 Dolce and Gabbana tie in order to save it from irrepairable digestive damage.

I make it almost to the end of the party when the bride's dad stops me with a painfully drunken smile spread across his impossibly squinting face. "Picture!" He shouts. Unsure of his intentions I find his arm wrapped around my shoulder and Oba-chan squeezed next to me. I look down to see she only reaches my elbow in height, and by the time I look back up my pupils are forced into pinhole size by camera flash. With that the whole episode is over. ありがとう、is yelled by the marching party, and the chanting of the groomsmen slowly fades and echos down the street.

I am left alone once more. Standing still in a windy vacant side alley. It is just me and tumbling scraps of trash. I stop for a moment to open a fresh can of yebisu and ponder the next morning for the old man who just snapped a quick shot with me.

"how much did I drink?..and who the fuck is this gaijin?"