a The Transit Lounge: Shibuya Saturday Nights

Back in the Day: I had a quarter life crisis, headed to Osaka, Japan for the unknown–only to discover that a passport plane ride are not necessarily a ticket to escape. Some Years Later: Settled back in Oz, the man of my dreams ended up in Tokyo for work–which is how a passport and plane ride showed me home is where the heart is. And Now: Well as luck would have it, we are about to embark on Japan Mark 3, with a baby in tow and another on the way...

Monday, September 21

Shibuya Saturday Nights

Walking through Shibuya on Saturday night, I came across a little matsuri.

"So pretty," I hear you saying. And then the crazy came - the chanting, the noise and of course men with no pants on. It definitely can't be a serious festival if there is not a little nudity (or near nudity).

I wish I could hear the water cooler conversation at the office this morning. I imagine it to go a little something like this.

Yoshi: "So Hiro, what did you do on the weekend?"
Hiro: "Oh me and Tazawa joined in the Shibuya matsuri. Before we knew it, Tazawa had his light sabre out and began directing traffic. So I took my pants off."
Yoshi: "You're so crazy Hiro."
Hiro: "That's not even the start of it. I realised I was wearing my wife's underwear but it didn't matter. The other men were wearing ladies' underwear too. So we just chanted and drank some more, carried this thing and then it gets a little hazy. But when I came too, I was wearing somebody else's underwear!"

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