After leaving the bar, Donzoko, I was ready to go home. I had work the following day, and did not have long before the last train home. Shinjuku is a hard place to leave though, and I soon found myself having a ‘quick drink’ at a tachinomiya in Shinjuku`s sanchome district.
One drink became two, and before I knew it I was in a karaoke booth with two nurses, Kimiko and a girl from Okinawa.
For three thousand yen we had an hour to sing and drink what we liked. The singing started dreadfully, and petered away after that. But the gin and tonics kept up a steady pace.
Before long, the Okinawan nurse was fast asleep. She was probably bored. For some reason, I had been trying to persuade Kimiko that not all French people are arrogant gits. I failed.
After finishing karaoke, the Okinawan nurse took a taxi home. Kimiko wanted to go to a gay club. Without hesitation, I agreed. After karaoke, it seemed a natural progression.
I had no idea what to expect inside. To be honest it was horrendous, but only in the same dismal fashion of all my other nightclub experiences. I hate nightclubs, gay or not. The loud music makes me angry, the darkness makes me tired, and the sweaty shirtless blokes make me feel old and flabby.
Fortunately Kimiko loved it. While I spent much of the night sat cradling a beer, Kimiko wandered around asking foreigners if she could slap their arses. Abit cheeky, I thought, but she seemed to savour every slap, and everybody was good-natured about it.
At 3am, we left Artfarty, had a Thai curry, then said goodnight. I have never had a Saturday quite like it but somehow, I suspect Kimiko has.