I went out on Saturday night! I didn't entirely feel like it, but the Metro Club
is only once a month. This month was their 20-year anniversary for holding this queer dance in Japan, so I figured it'd be worth seeing at least for a bit.
Doors opened at 10; I got there a bit before 11[*] and left a bit after 2. The place started filling up around midnight, and there was a drag and semi-stripping show shortly after that. Later it got smoky and crowded and louder, resulting in sore throat, no fun dancing, failure to talk to people, and annoyed ears. Apparently the party goes until "at least" 5, but I was done.
The music was monotonous, boring dance stuff, but getting better by the time I left. I think they saved the good tunes for later, when more people would be around. We were starting to get Men Without Hats, so I assume that Erasure, Madonna, and Gaga would have been forthcoming at some point.
People talked to me: I made friends with a maybe-gay boy from China immediately, and learned a lot about how fucking dire his situation is. He had a gay uncle who disappeared
for a long time, and China is apparently rife with conversion therapy. I didn't know what to say, except, experiment while you're here and maybe you have a terrible choice to make. (Is there some online tool for Chinese homosexuals to meet each other for beard acquisition? I'm sure it's filtered out if there is, but if they're outside of China... It's all so terrible.) He offered to sleep with me but I didn't want to and I don't think he did either. He kept looking at guys and they kept having boyfriends, poor kid.
A boy from New Jersey was the first one dancing, and he was happy when I came to dance too (after a couple other people did). We shouted at each other briefly.
A Japanese girl thought I was someone else.
Brazilian guys chatted to me for a while; apparently I was straight-looking, as that's what they asked early on. Uh, no. One offered me white tablets and said they were candy. Rather a first for me. You enjoy those yourself, good sir!
A couple of Spanish-speaking boys caught me as I was heading home and complimented me, in that usual way in Japan where they first say how not-Japanese I look. (More salutary experiences for white people! Being exotic: not actually fun!) They seemed pretty entertaining, but I was outa there.
I even approached a person myself: this cute Brazilian butch in aviator glasses. Like a lot of the non-Japanese people there, she's a proper expat, been in Japan for seven years. There were a few students, too, and a lot of Japanese people, only some of whom seemed to be queer. And drag queens! One of them seemed to be the person who runs the event -- very tall, very friendly, very flaming of course. With plumes I swear this one person was eight feet tall.
I successfully hailed a taxi and took it home, despite the residence's business card not working as advertised. The driver looked at it and said "Nagoya Daigaku?" and I said sure. School is close enough. By the time we got there I was looking nervously at the meter, having been so unwise as to buy an extra drink in the bar (note: their gimlet was really great
), and let him drop me so I could walk the rest of the way home.
I'd forgotten that non-Seattle places may still allow smoking indoors. Luckily I had planned to shower anyway, but my clothes got banished to the balcony. I crashed about 4am and slept until 11. (I honestly thought it was about 7 when I woke up, but it was just rainy. Yay sleep!) Yesterday was aftermath/pajama/internet-outage day -- somehow both my arms were really sore? -- and here I am back being verbose tonight.
* I had to keep watching Community until Troy and Abed made up, okay? Besides, I knew it would be quiet early on.