Roppongi

After a hard days work there is nothing better than the prospect of an all-nighter in Roppongi. There is little to commend this part of Tokyo in the daytime, but at night it is the party capital. After sun-down the place becomes infested with cocktail swilling, dolled-up boys and girls looking to rave it up til dawn. I had been warned about the place - you either love it or you hate it. It has been described as 'the filth', 'a meat market', 'a veritable sin den'. I had been invited to join a group of international expats and students for a taste of Roppongi, and tonight it was to be 'Vanilla'.



It was with an unexpected wave of anticipation and enthusiasm that I found myself at Shinjuku station and heading towards the Kabukicho exit. It was my first time here at night, and the place was dazzling. The neon is more brilliant at night, the air more intoxicating, the music and voices more vibrant. I was introduced to a 'newbie' from New Zealand, who told me twice in the space of fifteen minutes that she had only been here for 3 weeks. She seemed fun in a dizzy kind of way. Perhaps the effect of Tokyo. Then there was a blonde from Australia who was leaving Japan in a month or so. The others were science students - aquaintances of a friend of mine. One girl was from Germany, the other from Turkey and the guy was from Tanzania. They were studying for two months in Tokyo, so were keen to lap up some of the night-life. The others were guys I already knew; all teachers.


First stop was a warm up for Roppongi - two hours of karaoke in a room the size and appearance of a garden shed. I half expected to see cockroaches scuttling over the benches. A modest screen was jammed into the corner and a couple of microphones lay haphazardly on the low table. I have never seen people get so excited about singing cheesy songs in a grotty room. The toilets were unisex - basically a urinal that you had to squeeze past to get to a lavatory that lay just beyond a rickety door. Nice. Beer was ordered via a grimy telephone on the wall every 15 minutes, whilst the microphones were passed from one to the other. It was a 'drink-as-much-as-you-can' affair, for 2000 yen. We cheered and applauded every cringeworthy performance and laughed a lot. I managed to avoid singing this time, and somehow I don't think anyone noticed. (Thank goodness. I hate to be boring but it's just not for me. At least not that early in the evening!)


Our time was up at 12.14 and we were back on the streets of sleaze that is Kabukicho. (Nothing compared to Amsterdam though which is far more ignominious.) Taxis were hailed. The newbie from New Zealand confessed that she couldn't drink as much as she liked to, and slid gracelessly onto the floor of the cab where she remained for the extent of the journey. We were deposited at Roppongi crossing, the main drag, and walked a short distance to join a queue outside a rather impressive looking venue called 'Vanilla', a gleaming black towerblock. I was amazed to discover that it only cost 1000 yen (5 British pounds) to get in and this included two free drinks (that is if you had the energy fight your way through the bodies to the bar.)

The air was thick with moisture and cigarette smoke and it was positively heaving with people. It was huge. We were immediately forced by the flow of people into the mass of pounding hip-hop heaving. Dancing ensued. The group then emigrated to the next floor up, which was Japanese dance music, VIP lounges, hordes of Japanese girls fighting to dance on wooden stages, and thousands and thousands of people. It was a vast place. The German girl and I made a trip to the bar to get our complimentary drinks only to return 25 minutes later. The night continued in much the same way: the group moving from one floor to the next. I think there were three or four floors in all. Then I suddenly became aware of the fact that I wasn't actually enjoying myself. It was impossible to communicate exept by shouting, I didn't like the music, and I could barely breathe or even move. I felt claustrophobic. I thought I was going to be crushed at one point. It was horrible.

I wondered why I was the only one not enjoying this experience. What was it that I was missing? What is it that all these people are enjoying so much? I mean what is so great about being crushed to death to the sound of hip-hop whilst dying of dehydration? I felt like a traitor to my generation as I told my friends I was going outside for some air. I had little intention of going back in. It must have been 3.30 am and the first train was at 5.30. I sat down outside with a bottle of water. The bouncers were very nice and said I could go back in whenever I wanted. They seemed pretty concerned about my well being actually. Why wasn't I having a good time? Why would I have preffered to go to a Jazz club and sip a G&T? I felt annoyed and confused. I was young and carefree - why wasn't I behaving like all the rest of them? I decided it didn't matter, that loads of people I knew didn't like Roppongi and they weren't questionning their identities because of it. I mean I like clubbing if the music is good and the atmosphere is positive....

I reassured myself that I wasn't getting old before my time and then fell asleep. I was awoken at 5am by my friends. It was light and some of them were going for a curry breakfast. I passed on that, opting instead to accompany the scientists back to Shinjuku on the first train. The streets were filled with drunks, people passed out in doorways, groups of jaded business men staggering in their bedraggled suits, and us. I just wanted to get home, but a two hour journey in the grey and morning drizzle lay before me. My friends and I parted at Shinjuku where I sat on the platform to await the connection to Toyoda. It was like after a festival or something, there were so many people everywhere. I fell asleep on the train and by some miracle woke up at my stop. I trudged home in the rain feeling despondent. It was 7am when I climbed the ladder to my loft. I drifted off to sleep to the sounds of the early morning trains thundering by.