This was a bizarre question that this one Japanese lady asked me when I was at the Hard Rock Cafe in Roppongi/Tokyo my first time. I believe it was the winter of 1999, early December and it was my first major vacation away from the US. I stayed at a backpacker’s lodge called the New Koyo Inn in a spot in Minowa, experiencing the adventure of Tokyo life (and hardships). I can’t remember how or why I was in Roppongi that night nor how I even managed to discover the Hard Rock Cafe there since I wasn’t really into site seeing at that point in time. Later, the Hard Rock Cafe in Roppongi would eventually become a spot I’d frequent for dinner and the occasional drink whenever I was feeling lonely.
For the most part I kept to myself during that trip since my main purpose was to check out Puroresu (more specifically Joshi Puroresu which I had an unhealthy obsession for in that period). I did manage to meet a few people at the New Koyo Inn, befriending a few people but just for the duration. Also, I knew a few people ahead of time because of an encounter with some wrestlers from Arsion who visited LA the previous year. So I never really felt alone and probably unnecessarily focused in those days. I had a decent paying job, a good employer, youth still and a burgeoning career in an exploding industry. I felt that the world was at my feet.
During my first trip, I had little to no knowledge of Japan nor Tokyo. Most of my ideas came through literature, my university professor or the few friends who actually visited. Everything was brand new and the whole place was such a wonder for me. With Roppongi, my only exposure was through a partly outdated travel guide that described the area as the “foreigner bar district.” Later on, I had the opportunity to live around the corner in my favorite living quarters in Akasaka.
Me being me, I probably dressed up like a typical Southern California-r who knows only two seasons: warm and hot. But I’m sure I didn’t don anything fancy as I had no preconceptions of what Japanese women would be like in those days.
Next to me two women were seated. I can’t remember how the conversation between us got started but I was pretty certain that they were drunk. More than likely by the way I was dressed they determined early on that I wasn’t from Japan so one lady started speaking to me in English.
Back then I was a lot less cynical in many ways about the world and probably more introspective and idealistic. If anything I certainly was very naive about women, having been single until I started living in Tokyo. Maybe my “innocence” (for lack of a better term) at that time made me seem more vulnerable or something. But for some reason that lady, though drunk, gave me a good conversation that night. A shame I could not recall the vast bulk of the content except for the question she posed to me: “Do you believe in destiny?”
What I learned in retrospect is that whenever a woman asks you a question like that, especially if they’re drunk, there’s a good chance they’re seeking something. Because I was an utter idiot, I think I said something profoundly unprofound and typically asinine as I normally do in my standard awkward behavior when confronted by someone like that. What I should have responded was, “No, but you’re making me a believer.”
I wish I wasn’t so obsessed and single minded in those days. Actually, I’m still that way but I broke away for a bit since back then I only had mine for two women that were out of reach. Instead, I should’ve looked at what was in front of me and realized what a great opportunity I had that night. What would’ve happened? Would she have eventually taken me back to her apartment? Would we have located one of the infamous Love Hotels in Shinjuku, Shibuya or some other back alley shady spot in Tokyo? Would or could we even be a couple and manage to form a long lasting relationship where I brought her to the states and ended up having a happy, banal yet stable life?
Unfortunately, time travel doesn’t exist. Not for me realistically. I can’t pluck from my history those moments where you can take the alternate path of a “what if” scenario and figure out all the details leading to the present. The saddest part is that I didn’t even get her name nor email address. What a shame.