Thanks to Lousie, we had a summer kimono party, which marked one of the last times all of the 'Guch JETS would be together before so many of us leave Japan. That could've explained the somewhat surreal aura about that night, or maybe it was just the fact that we were all having dinner at an Italian restaurant that just so happened to be next to a Catholic church--a church that kept ringing it's bells every 20 minutes in Buddhist Japan. Im amazed at how "normal" many things have become to me. The puffy gloves that old ladies wear when they ride their bikes; the sucking through the teeth to express awkwardness; all of the jelly fish products. Yet, the setting of that night did strike Becky I. and I as a little odd, but it's the Japan that we know: bizaare. We had a 2 hour nomihodai (all you can drink) before setting out to the next venue: another nomihodai at an izakaya (a family/drinking retsaurant). Everyone looked so composed and even elegant in the beginning of the night, but you could see everyone's slowly falling apart at this point of the night. Like all good nights, we ended in a karaoke room, singing bad Queen songs.
- Highlights from the blurry night:
- Ross, obliterated by 10PM, eating someone else's meal. Later got a glass of freezing water poured over his head by El Dibalo.
- Nate playing Nintendo in a seperate roms with little kids. He was allegedlly heard trying to convince a 5-year old that he was Mario from the"Super Mario Brothers" game whilst doing a borderline racist Italian impression.
- El Diablo passed out under the table.