Writing For Rodney – Day 8

Shinjuku. Specifically Piss Alley. Or, as The Trifecta of our night. And the third night in a row that I had wrecked havoc upon that poor stretch of filth. Piss Alley is a collection of TINY bars and restaurants jammed into a little corner of Shinjuku around the bend from the Robot Restaurant and right by the Red Light District – OPA! They call it that because for years there were no restrooms in any of the bars, so the drinkers had to empty their bladders wherever they could. Rumors persist TO THIS DAY, that I have a video of a drunken Godzilla peeing in the bushes out there from our very night roaming the alleys, but I somehow can’t seem to find it. And what a shame too, because the policeman who happened upon him did NOT seem amused. But this Leopard tells no pee tales. Today.

A quick google search tells me that Piss Alley was formed in the 40s as an illegal drinking area for people who wouldn’t normally have the riches to access such things as alcohol and meat. Int also says that there are “restaurants” among these establishments. But Ive been all over piss alley and never seen anyone eating anything, except for a few flop down drunks who were feasting on a face full of concrete.

But if you’re heading to piss alley with the intention eating, well then you’re not that kind of guy I wanna be doing Sake shots with.  The first night I arrived in Japan I met up with Naughty Nicky and Evil Erin Stern, Badass Jay Belin, MeShuggah Mo Traynor, Juggalo Jeremy Holgerson and a few others too hazy to name for a steak dinner in the Lost in Translation Bar which led to an even hazier off-key romp through a private Karaoke room.  As per contractual restrictions, no pics or videos will be shared from that room. Which is for the best. The next night I hit Piss Alley on my own, which is always when the real trouble happens.

It always starts innocently enough. With a beer. Or two, or three. And then someone starts singing that Lil Jon Nugget SHOTS. Funny thing is, nobody else can ever hear this song. I think it’s just a hallucinatory siren scared up by a mixture of the whistling and my tinnitus. But once you put some gas in the engine, watch out.

I should mention that every bar in Piss Alley has about 6-8 seats packed tightly around a bar and sometimes they cram a few more folks in to cram around them. And now they have bathrooms, because apparently the whole hood compound burned down in the late 90’s and the Japanese Government rebuilt it EXACTLY the way it was, except this time equipped with commodes. Still didn’t stop that dang Godzilla feller though.

My first stop was supposed to be Death Match In Hell, which was closed, as it seemingly always is every time I try and go int here. Death Match From Hell’s theme isn’t death matches at all, oddly enough, but they show a steady stream of awesome horror flicks and play metal. So good enough for me. But seeing as it was closed, I moseyed on down the hall to the “Not Suspicious Bar” Pretty sure that’s the name, because it’s got multiple signs outside that are scrawled with NOT SUSPICIOUS pointing you upstairs. Like the sign says, not suspicious at all.

We Can’t Go On forever…
Caught in a trap, and can’t look back!

Which is what drew me to it last year, and made me bee-line toward it as this year’s first stop. And it was just like I remember it – jammed to the gills, full of drunken tourists wearing plastic tiaras that the barman bestows on the luckiest of lads and lasses, and is also covered inches thick in paper that people write notes and draw dicks onto. Or and onto which they draw dicks, if you wanna be technical about it. But it’s Japan, so Im gonna let a little grammarly transgressions glide by for this gaijin.

That was all well and good for a while. Met tons of Australians and discussed the finer points of the differences between NFL and NRL (Australia’s National Rugby League) and AUSSIE RULES FOOTBALL. And everyone agreed, of course, that Aussie Rules is the best. If you’ve never seen it, here ya go. It’s basically a prison yard version of the old playground game “smear the queer™” Thank me later.

Anyways, why are there so many Australians in Japan you ask? Well, it’s like their New England, or Colorado, or Utah. Namely, the closes place you can go for a is vacation. I was gonna say it’s like their Mexico, but that’s more like Indonesia and Thailand. Which makes me think they have a better Mexico than us., I wonder if Australia is full of amazing Thai and Indonesian food spots. And housekeepers? Who does their gardening over there? And who does their President blame all their problems on? Oh RIGHT! They don’t have any problems, because they don’t have nay guns. Just an infinitesimal amount of critters that will kill you just for THINKING about asking an Aussie where all of the Kangaroos are. Or Koala bears. Turns out they aren’t outside the airport. Or so Ive heard. Ive never even been there. BUT the homie John Joseph told me they have a very progressive vegan scene. A fact that I brought up to one of the Aussies I met which almost got me into a fight. He was SO ANGRY about Vegans, you’d think his tiny wallaby cock was made out of soft Tofu. Which, in retrospect, it probably was, since later int he night when I ran into him again at another bar he kept challenging me to fight, on the basis of me being gay and all. And he really didn’t like it when I pointed out that HE was the one wearing the FINGERLESS PINK GLOVES!! And this was the night BEFORE I was dressed in the  skintight Leopard Print outfit. Oh boy, we didn’t even get into the shirtless part yet. Which didn’t involve that twisted fruit, thank goodness. 

And just like that, we passed the 1,000 words for today. More tomorrow! G’DAY MATE!