At dawn, the light is soft and intensely blue. I watch out the window of the train as we move from Chiba into Tokyo. We cross a river. The surface of the water is a silvery, metallic blue. “Aragawa?” I ask Ben. His mmmm means, “No.” “Edogawa?” I ask. “If we’re lucky,” he replies. We’re coming from Matsuda, in Chiba, where we’ve been to karaoke all night with Seth and Yuko, our own sanshikai, third party. It’s five a.m. and I want to talk about the quality of light in Tokyo and compare it now, during a typhoon in the fall, to Albuquerque’s late afternoon light. “The quality of light is different here,” I say to Ben, the words making no sense outside of my head. “It’s taken me a long time to get used to it.” Ben looks at me a bit quizzically. I am quiet.
Ben falls asleep soon after. Too tired to keep his head up, he lets it fall back. It makes a hollow bonk as it hits the window. I stifle my laughter to avoid disturbing our fellow passengers, businessmen and women and a group of young men off to some sporting event with their equipment. Ben doesn’t wake.
What Do I Owe You?
It sounds strange to say it, but, having missed my last train, I hadn’t had enough money to call it a night.
I left for Ellaine’s party with a respectable six thousand yen in my pocket. This is just above the minimum that anyone should leave the house with in Japan. I had expected to spend it and come home by last train.
At TGIFridays in Ginza, I bought a pack of smokes, ate, drank, and paid my share of the bill. Someone else didn’t. Rather than letting Mike from The Ginza Kaisha make a scene and call someone out or letting Ellaine chip in for her own party, I handed over what was left of my six thousand. That left me with a few hyaku-en and other assorted coins. I had perhaps four hundred in loose change on me altogether.
Junko invited me to a nishikai, second party, and I was interested in going, but I needed an ATM. As the ichikai, first party, broke up, I walked with a group to Seitetsu’s bar. I established my presence there and then momentarily left the party to go to a conbini. While I was waiting to use the ATM, I bought a Crunky bar and ate it standing in line. That left me with a little over three hundred. I stepped up the ATM, still scarfing down the Crunky. My card was laughed at by the machine: The ATM had closed twenty minutes before. Sorry, no yen for you. Returning to the party to explain that I was yenless and would make last train prompted Ken to buy me a drink. 
I had been drinking tequila shots at TGIFridays with a couple of students. At Seitestu's bar, one of them, Masashi, bought me another shot. I showed him how to drink it using salt and lime. <--Masashi and me (a s'kosh' drunk on tequilla)
I missed last train from Asakusa to Higashi-Mukojima, though I hadn’t yet missed the train from Ginza to Asakusa. There would have to be a cab and that cab would cost twelve hundred and I had about three hundred.
Ben said, “S’a’rah’ mate” at me. That meant that he would cover the cab and I could pay him back. “We’ll go in a moment,” he said.
That moment lasted and eventually turned into running through Ginza to Yurakucho station to board the last train out of Ginza to anywhere in the northeastern part of Tokyo. We made the Yamanote line heading to Nippori where we could catch the train to Minami-Senju. A cab from Minami-Senju would cost 2,000. I spent two hundred on the cheapest ticket that would allow me to board the train. I would have to borrow to adjust my fare at Minami-Senju.
Yuko and Seth got off the train at Ueno, heading to Chiba, to Matsuda on the Joban line. Ben and I got off at Nippori. Because of the way the lines cross, we also and boarded the Joban line. In fact, we boarded the same train as Yuko and Seth. I was in for a penny, so I suggested half-jokingly that we just go to Yuko’s and keep drinking. Ben called Yuko.
It had really been a joke, and I really expected to step off the train at Minami-Senju and catch a cab on borrowed yen that would get me back to Higashi-Mukojima. But at Minami-Senju, Ben stayed in his seat while the train doors opened and the train sat at the station for the twenty seconds it takes for everyone to embark or disembark from the train and the train doors closed and the train started moving. After the train had left the station, I turned to Ben. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Matsuda,” he answered. He leaned back and closed his eyes as the train picked up speed. “It’s about fifteen minutes there.”
At Matsuda, we met Yuko and Seth on the platform. Yuko ran to the bathroom as Ben and Seth played a pickup game of baseball with an empty Matsuya Cider can and Seth’s umbrella. Because we were still in the station, a taxi driver told them to stop. Seth apologized to the taxi driver, turned back to Ben and swung at a pitch that was too wide. Yuko came back. “Nandayo?!” she said. The game was moved outside. I took the role of catcher and we played until Seth had hit a homerun. The station door--a big metal door like an enormous garage door--was lowered. We were in Matsuda until first train.
As we left the area near the station, I looked around. Tall buildings surrounded the station. A few people milled around outside, some so drunk they couldn’t stand anymore. “So this is Matsuda,” I said to Yuko. “Yes,” she answered. “I live in Tokyo,” I told her. “We’re in Chiba,” she said.
We walked to a nearby conbini then to a karaoke place. Yuko signed us up for several hours of karaoke and I bummed three hundred off of her for a pack of smokes.
We sang karaoke and drank beer for three hours. The bill was sixteen thousand yen. My share was four thousand. Seth paid my share. “I’m sorry, Seth,” I said. “I’ll pay you back on Tuesday.”
We walked back to Matsuda station, Ben and I, and I borrowed money for a ticket to Ueno. At Ueno, thankfully, I wouldn’t have to borrow again as my commuter pass would cover me on the Ginza line to Asakusa then home to Higashi-Mukojima.
It was cold and raining in Ueno. We exited the station to get to the Ginza line metro. We passed many homeless men.
I said to Ben,“I’d hate to be homeless in Tokyo.”
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