|My room at the International House of Japan. In addition to housing guest|
intelectuals such as me, it hosts leactures and events.
It wasn’t the flight that wiped me out, rather it was the 90 minute bus ride to downtown Tokyo from the airport. After barely being able to sleep until the last two hours of the flight, I couldn’t keep my eyes open as the bus navigated Tokyo traffic.
Brother law states that as more rare we become the more defference we’re obligated to offer. So when the brother – likely an African of some sort – told me I should check out this club I felt obligated to take a peek.
I was in the elevator before I discovered that the club he was hussling for was a nudey bar. It was still early Sunday evening, but it appeared I was the only customer (in the front room at least). Kevin now tried to up the buy-in from just take a look to "just stay for a drink." I insisted that I was just off the plane and would not stay.