Restless Nights in the Neon Playground

Every once in a blue moon, I find myself in situations in which I lose complete and utter grasp of when night ends and morning begins, only to have said concept catch up to me in a sudden hostile takeover of my physiological being. Usually this process involves a three week long assignment, a pack of cigarettes (sorry mom), and some variety of inevitably work-stunting background noise, which almost always does more harm than good in distracting me from whatever it is that I am supposed to be creating. I have always found that I am actually more productive under an extreme time limit (for the most part anyway), and always seem to respond better to said time limit forcing me to not hyper-focus on all of the little details of the piece. So thus the process repeats itself, and somewhere between the hours of 11:00 PM and whothefuckiskeepingtrack:00 AM_ somewhere between the one-too-many times I pause my favorite self help seminars repeating for their third-and-a-half time to inhale noxious poisons into my already wrecked-tired body, I usually manage to produce a piece of relatively-fine art. Then my alarm rings, and I begrudgingly pack my things and head to school. About half way there, my vision usually gets fuzzy, my head starts to feel extraordinarily warm, and I become a blank slate, sinking into an almost dream-like state, wearing a look on my face akin to the white canvas I had recently violated.

I know it sounds pleasant, but take my word: it's fucking NOT. The bottom line is that being in class the morning after an all nighter is kind of like waking up in purgatory. You're not quite sure where you are, or exactly how you got there, but you know it had something to do with repenting for minor accounts of sloth. And much like being in purgatory, once you muddle through your time there, thus repenting for your sins, you will go to a soft, warm, heavenly state of what seems like eternal rest. This state of being has become pretty familiar to me, especially as I move up in rank and responsibility in the MICA curriculum. However, that doesn't make this physical abnormality any easier to deal with, especially when experienced on a friday night/saturday morning in a neighborhood none other than Shibuya after what was officially my first night of clubbing in Tokyo.

Last friday, as my new friends and I excitedly charged through the automatic glass doors out of temple university's main academic building in the middle of Minato-Ku, headed towards Tamachi station creating what I can only describe as a low roar through the city streets, as we discussed, (or rather shouted over one another) what we were going to do on this wonderful, and oh-so-welcomed Friday night to blow off the steam of the first week back in class. Seeing as how tokyo is one of the most lively and electric nightlife scenes in the entire world, we figured we would just pick a place in one of the notorious club districts, and go. So after we wolfed down a quick meal, and impatiently waited for the clock to reach 9:00 (some of us already half-passed wasted already having started pre-gaming shorty after class had let out), we hit the JR rollin 9 deep (that's nine people for all you old heads out there) until we finally arrived at Shibuya station.

After badgering about a half dozen japanese city workers and salarimen for directions in very broken japanese, we argued our way to a little gem near love-hotel hill called “Club Camelot”. From this point on, the night proceeded to unfold in a remarkably nonlinear fashion, in which each one of us faced a new set of trials and tribulations as it pertained to exploring yet another social ecosystem of modern Japan. Although I don't think anyone else dared or cared to chronicle their own unique findings of how best to navigate the incredibly daunting tokyo club scene, I did, and made another list. So here it is, a few suggestions of how not to fuck up when going out raging in tokyo on a weekend night:

1) figure out where you want to go before you leave for the night, and how to get there. The last thing on earth anyone wants to be doing when they arrive at a club district in a foreign place is to have to get oriented in a new neighborhood. You'll find that all of the excitement will quickly turn to impatience, breeding unneeded animosity between friends. The locals will give you directions only if they feel like it, and it is next to impossible to find someone willing to do so in a sea of wasted businessmen and J-poppers. Try doing this four or five times in a row, and you will quickly realize just how lost you all are, and just how frustrating being lost can be. So be preemptive, and get directions before you step out the door.

2) If you get lost (which will very likely happen, even if you have an address), then don't start arguing and bickering with your friends. Arguing never got anyone anywhere, especially to the dance floor. If need be, extract your crew from the rest of the crowd to sit, regroup, and form a new plan. Fighting amongst yourselves will only add to the confusion, further prolonging your eventual arrival at the venue, while simultaneously turning the happy-go-slumming mood sour.

3) If you're trying to pick up Japanese women, or just make a good impression in general, go out in small groups; not big ones. It is one thing to hit a place with two or three of your closest new friends. It is quite another to bust down the doors in a horde of gaijin (foreigners), with more heads in your crew than the US fuckin Marine squads in World War II. You will quickly (albeit falsely, perhaps) be judged by the company you keep, so make sure you roll in smaller numbers. It may be unfair, but unfortunately the more rowdy americans you come in with, the less receptive the crowd (especially the bouncers), will be towards your antics. If even one person in the group commits a discretion worse than the usual mash of party tomfoolery, then the whole lot of you will most likely have to answer for it. Try telling a group of nigerian doorkeepers that the other white men playing grab-ass with the helpless little Japanese clubrats are not connected in any way to you, just as one of them is loudly hollering your name. So do yourself and the schoolgirls a favor and keep it small, and under control.

4) Don't drink_ or at least drink in small increments. Basically, don't get sloshed. Getting loaded is for going out to bars with your buddies, not for socializing in clubs. It is a difficult enough environment to navigate while sober, let alone after four or five sake-bombs. Although I kept my shit together pretty well, my friends started drinking at our dorm in the afternoon. Drinking dulls the senses, and the wits, makes you tired faster, dehydrates you in the hot and sweaty pit, and basically makes you into a less potent, more obnoxiously rambunctious version of yourself. Instead of using it as a crutch to be social, maybe try getting your energy out on the dance floor. Nobody is actually watching you, so there is no need to be embarrassed, and the best part is that often times, it's way easier to meet people this way. Just remember, everyone in the club is way more concerned about themselves and what they are doing than what you are doing. The one who has the best time is the one who knows this and can exploit it. Alcohol does anything but help you do this. Plus, if you thought getting to the club was hard at the beginning of the night, try finding your way home when you're tired, spent, and half-passed gone.

By the way, I know few people even consider listening to this one, but I figured like it or not, this little tidbit was too important to leave out.

5) Go out on the last train, and not any time before it. The fact of the matter is that the club scene doesn't start to jam until about 12:00 or 1:00 AM. Arriving fashionably late is way more conducive to meeting more people. At the point that my friend Nats and I were leaving, it seemed as though swarms of all the coolest kids in town were just coming through, and although we met some cool people while it was still technically friday night, we could have met a lot more if we had waited until the earliest parts of saturday “morning” to make our grand debut.

6) Just in case you do decide to leave before the first trains start running, it's a good idea to know in advance where all of the capsule hotels, cafes, and 24-hour ramen shops are located, lest you freeze your ass off in the frigid Tokyo air. This isn't such a problem in the spring and summer when it's nice and warm out no matter what time it is, but in the colder months the temperatures drop, and being stranded outside is no fun. Knowing where you can sit down and get a really early breakfast is your best bet because not only can you stay warm, but it also provides you shelter (for the most part) from all of the questionable characters mucking about in the wee hours of the AM. Nats and I knew we weren't in Kansas anymore at the point when we trekked down a sloped street in Shibuya looking for a place to decompress, only to be harassed by the hordes of shady bar hosts and Chinese immigrant night walkers offering all-too-convenient “massages” in the red light district of town.

Word to the wise: never take them up on their offer. I know what was common sense for me might look like a great opportunity to those new to the Asia travel game. Needless to say, it may seem like a happy ending to a great night, but these people are in cahoots with some of the most dangerous salarimen on the face of the planet, and trust me, these are not the kind of business men you want to encounter at any time during your stay in Japan, especially after dark.

7) Make friends with the gatekeepers. This is everyone and anyone who may temporarily have more situational power or social proof than you. Im referring to men in groups of women who will no doubt make a scene if they feel threatened by your presence (which, unless you befriend them, they almost always will); I'm talking about anyone and everyone wearing anything other than a cell phone that resembles a communication device. Whether they're holding a walkie-talkie or wearing a headset with a mic piece, if there's a wire or a red glowing button involved, and they look like they're not having fun, it probably means they're some form of security. In order to get IN the club, you gotta get through the door. Never underestimate the importance of the opinion of the guy who holds the line, especially on a cold January night; last and most importantly, I'm talking about the bouncers, because when all is said and done, these hulking creatures are the ones who have the actual physical power to “escort” you and your familiars out of the club.

Although making nice with these people doesn't mean you can get away with murder, it certainly doesn't hurt to have them in your back pocket, and the best part is, it's easy! Just walk up to any of the archetypes listed above at a high level of energy, high five them, and say some variation of the following words: “dude, this place is super tight! You look totally edgy wearing all-black! I'm Benji; what's your name?”. Fact of the matter is that at the end of the day, these gatekeepers are just people_ people who like to be given attention and compliments, just like any other chode does. A famous self help author by the name of Dale Carnegie says that successful people always take a genuine interest in those around them, because those around them would be much more inclined to be cooperative with a nice and thoughtful person. So basically, fake giving a shit about the men potentially in your way, and you're golden for the night!

8) Fellas, pay attention to the ladies-only parts of the club! Although the majority of us who hit this kind of scene are just honest fun-lovers looking to get down and blow off some steam, believe it or not there are some pretty sleazy characters out there. Dishonest people like these can be found scurrying about in all of the moist dark corners of the globe, and Japan is no different. In a country where the use of cell phones on silent mode has been outlawed on trains because of the rampant “schoolgirl upskirt camera photo” incidents occurring, you better believe there will be systems set up in the club to prevent things like this (or much worse than this) from happening. These come in the form of services such as separated sections of seating, escorted assistance for buying drinks, and my own personal favorite, the side-stage-dancing-platforms. I discovered that last one the hard way...

Although it's not crucial, it's still good to know where these areas are, and in some cases it may come in handy to know who isn't looking for THAT kind of attention, and as who's not just there to be seen.

9) CONSERVE YOUR ENERGY! Bypassing this rule was my biggest mistake of the night. At the point that I arrived, I immediately exploded like a bomb! I made the biggest scene you've ever seen, and whole ton of friends... in the span of about 15 minutes. Then I physically checked out. My energy output was so high that I depleted all of it way before I had a chance of hell in gaining any of it back. Trust me: one of the last things you want to be dealing with in an environment where the volume ranges from really loud to too-fuckin-loud is to try to regain your composure after it's been lost. On top of that you have to keep in mind that getting home is a bitch and a half, and the only economically smart way to do this is to wait for the first trains to start running on Saturday morning. In the mean time, you've got five or six hours to kill, and if you banish yourself before the club is even hopping, then you've wasted a potentially awesome night, not to mention the 3500 yen cover charge.

10) With all the above rules kept in full consideration, GET AMPED! You're in the club. The more you sit on the side lines, making small talk within your own little group of friends about how nice the light show is, or pounding the shots of tequila until your wrecked enough to forget how awkward you feel, the less opportunities you have to interact with the new and interesting people around you, or dance to the incredible house music being pumped though the oversized speakers at the front of each room.

Friday night was one of the strangest nights I've had in a while. By the time Nats and I stumbled out of the last warm place in the entire district still open, that all-too-familiar warm feeling began to expand slowly inside my head. We were almost frothing at the mouthes, both so spent that we could barely manage to communicate but in a series of slurred mumbles concerning which way the train station was, and how many transfers we had to make. I could barely hold my eyes open when I realized that once again, I had found myself in restless purgatory. Only this time, it took the form of an empty seat on the JR Yamanote line. But we made our way home and as I crept passed the dorm manager's den to the wonderful bliss that was my warm bed, I couldn't help but revel in the pure absurdity of our adventure that had unraveled piece by piece hours before.

In a city of over thirteen million strong (of which a large number populate the streets not too long after the sun goes down), at any given time you or your pals could be a razor's edge away from pissing the wrong person off, or walking down the wrong alley. The bottom line is that it's a fast world out there, and this scene runs at seemingly supersonic speeds, but with a dash of moxy (and ok, maybe a bit of the juice), anyone can turn this urban jungle into a neon playground!