DAICHI & MARI
One night last week, after walking around Tokyo all day, I stopped into a local bar for a drink. Unbeknownst to me, the bar was a “Darts Bar”. There are many of these lurking undercover in Japan; apparently trying to throw darts while inebriated is a popular pass time for the youth.
The bar was empty and I struck up a conversation with the bartender thanks to a translation app on my phone. After stumbling our way along boundaries of small-talk and actual interesting conversation for the better part of thirty minutes Daichi and Mari stumbled loudly into the bar with a round of introductions – already both quite sauced up.
Daichi, I found out is a painter who had work the next morning at 6am but seemed unfazed by the inevitable hangover he was adding to bottle after bottle. His lady friend, Mari, worked in real-estate and was the more coherent of the pair, though both were very friendly.
They smoked, drank, and tossed darts around for the better part of an hour. Then, as quickly as they’d swooshed in, they got up and left. Once again I found myself again sitting quietly with the bartender.
The bar was empty and I struck up a conversation with the bartender thanks to a translation app on my phone. After stumbling our way along boundaries of small-talk and actual interesting conversation for the better part of thirty minutes Daichi and Mari stumbled loudly into the bar with a round of introductions – already both quite sauced up.
Daichi, I found out is a painter who had work the next morning at 6am but seemed unfazed by the inevitable hangover he was adding to bottle after bottle. His lady friend, Mari, worked in real-estate and was the more coherent of the pair, though both were very friendly.
They smoked, drank, and tossed darts around for the better part of an hour. Then, as quickly as they’d swooshed in, they got up and left. Once again I found myself again sitting quietly with the bartender.
