In Japan

I'm not back in Japan, but rather writing a story I've been wanting to write for the last 7 months.

When I was in Japan, a friend of mine named Mark was also in Japan getting a new work visa. Mark and I hung out in Korea often. We both like to avoided the foreign bars, because we felt that while living in Korea we should do as Koreans do. Our ventures out on the town usually consisted of going to a bar or two, then eating kimbop in the late night. He is tall, like me, and we really stood out in the Korean bars we would go to. We would usually be the center of attention and we would talk to everyone in the place. Most people in Korea say that they don't know English, but after a little drinking their English greatly improves.

Anyways, in Japan we wanted to have the same kind of night. However, it was a Thursday night. In Korea, everynight is a happening night, but not so in Fukuoka, Japan. Thursday was dead. Most of the bars were closed and the ones that were open catered to business men and sold cheap beers for $9. We decided to grab a bite to eat and call it an early night. We saw a place said it served Western food and beer from all over the world. We went in.

We ordered tacos and they were fantastic. They were just like what you can get in Southern California. I felt like I was back in the US. I noticed the guy at the next table was staring at me. He was short and his body was round. He had thick mustache. He had a friend who was tall, thin, and younger looking. They were both wearing jump suits from their job. I instantly thought, "I am sitting next to the Japanese Super Mario and Luigi."

Mario asked, "American?"
I said, "Yes."
Mario said, "America (he raised his right hand). Japan (up came the left hand). Brothers (the hands smashed together)."
"Yes, brothers," said me.
"I love America. He loves America (he motioned to Luigi, who nodded lazily). Japan loves America. Eat pizza." He tossed a pizza (minus 2 slices) on our table. Mark refused, but I ate it all. I think it was 6 slices. It was good enough to sell in the US. Korean pizza wouldn't make in America, because Korean tastebuds have created a different kind of pie.
After I finished the pizza, Mario asked, "You like?"
"Yes, delicious."
"I love you." Mario had drank quite a bit by that time. "Eat meat." And he tossed a couple of pork ribs on the table. Mark ate one and I ate one. Fabulous.
"Japan love America. Me love Raymond. Me love Mark. Place, another, go." Mario and Luigi left.

Fifteen minutes later, Mario was back and said, "Raymond. Mark. Go."
Mario and Luigi led us to a night club that had a band playing swing music and everyone was dancing. We sat down and the guys at the table next us got excited and said, "Hello" to me. Mario yelled at the guys, and the guys never looked at me again.

After about 10 minutes, Mario looked at me and said, "Dance."
"No thanks." Mark and I both said.
Mario was mad. He folded his arms and exhaled loudly.

A little later, he stood, grabbed me by the arm, and took me to the dance floor. He grabbed a dancing girl with his other hand and he tried to push us together. I felt bad for the girl because she was with her friends, so I tried to get away. But Mario yelled at me and then the girl. The girl was nice and danced with me to please the angry man.

Mario was happy. The girl and I sat down at Mario's table. Mario said, "You and you kiss." We both shook our heads no. Mario continued, "Kiss now." We didn't and he pouted. Once he knew that I wasn't going to kiss the girl he asked for the bill. We walked up to the cashier, and still angry from my lack of kissing, Mario launched the bill tablet at the young worker. He threw it hard. The tablet missed the cashier's head by inches and it crashed into the liquor bottles behind him. I am still confused by what he hoped to acheive with the throwing of the bill tablet.

After paying the bill, Mario, Luigi, and I were waiting outside the door for Mark. Mario noticed Mark wasn't with us and he began to cry. "Raymond!!!Where Mark??? I love Mark!!!" He ran back into the bar crying out, "Mark, Mark" as tears streamed down his face.

Mark and I were able to leave the Mario Bros. only after agreeing to give them our addresses and phone numbers in the US. Mark for some reason gave the guy his real address and phone number. I gave him outdated info. If Mario ever makes it to Bakersfield, I feel sorry for whoever lives at 3535 Stine Road #41 now.