February 18th, 2005
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Courtesy and the “snack”
Shortly after I first came to Japan, I learned about the phenomenon known as the sunakku (snack). Basically what this entails is a place where you drink and eat a little while occasionally singing a song via a public (bar wide) karaoke system. The catch is you pay more for each drink than you normally would, and songs cost something too. This can easily be factored in as the nebulous “snack” charge, which essentially means you pay a little extra for the ladies of the joint (be they 17 or 70, and the age determines the cost) to pay attention to you and give you props. For a long time the dominant Holden Caulfield-side of me was pretty much disgusted by this. “You mean you pay to have people PRETEND to like you?!” I thought often, “What kind of losers are so lonely they need to pay girls to pretend they’re hot shit?” Then after working in Japan as a “salary man” for about a year and a half it began to make sense.
Me. I’m the kind of loser. Because I bust my ass for thirteen, fourteen hours a day, and what do I have to come home to? An empty house, some anime’, and cheese if I deviate from my budget. I’m not quite sure if the excuse is as valid for married folks (Nobue’s father appeared to fall into this crowd at a glance), but for single, tired people like me, this is starting to make a hell of a lot of sense. I go to a snack (I have an array of them now, actually), I hang out with people at LEAST my mom’s age, and get told I’m amazing for a foreigner in my ability to eat and sing virtually anything Japanese.
I’m willing to bet not too many gaijin (foreigners) go the same route as me, but they’re probably mostly English teachers and have a flock of nubile Japanese surrounding them after class (note the cynicism). In any case, I usually end up being quite popular in the 37-85 bracket, if that means anything. But since I am continually widening my view of what’s “good and worthwhile”, it really doesn’t bother me too much. So what if their daughters are either thirty-three or eleven? I just want what every other human being wants, compassion and companionship.
Occasionally my plans backfire and I get virtually two hours of drinking, singing, and eating bought for me by some nice lady/couple who admires my moxie. If I had enough dough to go to a snack every night, I’d probably have a lot more friends and be even more Japanese. But, with things as they are, I wouldn’t trade it for a whole club full of peppy coeds. You know why? Because it’s honest.
[PS - If you haven't been reading my Kyoto blogs that I've been retroactively adding (see February 11th-13th), you've been missing out on my delirium.]
[PPS - Yeah I always have been and always expect to be just about this thick-headed.]
