dinner with Masako

My friend Mineko from Keio NY introduced me to Masako last summer in a Cuban bar in Roppongi. She’s also at least 30. I liked her, she’s cute, so I got in touch with her and we’ve gone out a few times. She asked me to join her because her French friends were in town, in transit during their honeymoon. We took a cab to the restaurant, a traditional sit-down-on-tatami place with seats for about 30 at long tables facing a small stage. The waiters and waitresses became performers for a show, with shamisen, taiko drums, shakuhachi flutes. When not performing they chatted up the guests, mostly older Japanese seeking nostalgia, probably tourists. People were pretty drunk and pretty happy. The French weren’t used to sitting on the floor, hadn’t eaten sushi or tofu, or drunk rice wine. They enjoyed everything overall, but you could see the guy wondering about how people survived on this crap. Anyhow it was good company, and Masako was proud to show her friends her culture. The musicians were great. Turns out the youngest shamisen player, a boy about 20, had just won the all-Japan shamisen competition. This restaurant, in fact, is famous, and it’s the place where the now infamous Yoshida Kyodai played until they broke out. Towards the end of the meal, Masako’s colleague from Sumitomo Ship Sales came. Yuki was a 24 year-old girl who grew up in Belgium and spoke fluent French and English. She was really cool. We took the train together at the end of the night and exchanged numbers. But she and Masako work together so if I wanted to take out Yuki, Masako could find out and I don’t want to burn bridges. Advice? Anyways finished another night drunk with friends, again taking the last train home. Even the damn late trains are packed like sardines. You take a deep breath and have to say excuse me to the person you’re bumping.