All-Nighter Exceptions

読者の考えをしていますよ。

Now I know what you're thinking, readers.

Miss Taylor pulled an all-nighter. Well, it's about time. To which class do we owe our high five, our slap on the back, our congratulations? To which professor do we revere and shower with praise? To which paper do we give our nod of approval?

Oh, readers. Please. Only the call of Tsukiji Market 築地市場 could break through to the bed-before-ten side of me.

You may remember from my last post that I went to Tsukiji Market barely a week before. This is true. However, despite waking up at 3:50am to get to Tsukiji at 5am, a security guard politely gave my roommate, Jack, and I the disappointing news that we were too late to see the famous tuna action. Too late? Yes. The online articles failed to mention how tourists line up outside of the visitor entrance at 3:30am. Thus, we took the security guard's advice and wandered about the marketplace surrounding our desired, off-limits (to us) tuna auction. Crestfallen, we were, but we made the most of our morning, perusing seafood stands and stopping to satisfy our now growling stomachs with the freshest Tsukiji sushi.

While Jack was content with the morning's tour of Tsukiji, I was far from the feeling. For me, the taste of Tsukiji served as merely an appetizer, preparing me for the main course.

Last Friday I convinced Jack and two other friends, Stephen, a fellow San Diegan, and Amy, a resident of Japan, to join me in an all-nighter, consisting of Hooters (unplanned), Karaoke, and of course, the tuna auction itself.

To recount these events of last Friday night to Saturday morning, I turn you to the following recap of exceptions:

Exception #1: Braving Hooters

11:30pm

We arrived in Shinbashi 新橋 just outside of Ginza 銀座, a district known for its expensive taste to go with its price tags. After agreeing to grab a bite to eat first, the four of us stumbled (yes, stumbled) upon the cheapest restaurant in Ginza: Hooters. I'm pleased to tell you, readers, that this was my first and last time at Hooters. I reasoned that because Japan is more conservative than America it couldn't be that bad. My prediction was right. Well, to some extent.

Picture a vast room with salary men still clad in their business suits and ties. Cigarettes occupy several of their hands. Young girls in high rise shorts and mini tanks occupy their glance. Sake 酒 is poured. Cheap American food is served. Laughter and loud music fill the room like a pungent perfume.

As we dined on our fried pickles, quesadillas, Philly Cheesesteak, and onion rings, the bright orange walls and TV screens playing Christina Aguilera music videos stung our eyes. To top off the experience, the waitresses did the "Chicken Dance" as we finally headed towards the exit.

Exception #2: Singing (outside of the shower)

1:30am

Our next stop: Big Echo Karaoke ビッグエコーカラオケ. Once inside, we relaxed comfortably in our ten-seater booth, sipping our cold floats (milk tea float for me) and sang the remaining hours until Tsukiji away. 

While a "talented" singer in the privacy of my own shower, I have never been especially confident in sharing my singing "skills" with others. Thus, when the microphone came to me, I tentatively took it, marking the second all-nighter exception.

Once the lyrics to "Mamma Mia" filled the HD screen, I let my doubts and insecurities slip from me. Amy and I belted out our favorite ABBA song, going all out as they say. Following "Mamma Mia," the four of us took turns choosing songs from American classics, such as "Take Me On," "Footloose," and Michael's "Man in the Mirror," to Japanese favorites, "Dango San Kyoudai"『だんご3兄弟』 and Arashi's 嵐's "Love So Sweet." Of course, the Justins--Timberlake and Bieber--made an appearance: the latter to the boys' dismay.

Exception #3: Getting the perfect shot

3:30am-5:50am

Finally, the moment we had anticipated arrived. We strolled into the waiting area at 3:30am and waited a good hour and forty minutes in our neon green vests for the tuna auction to take place. 

At 5:10am, we walked, escorted and in single file, through the trafficked marketplace to the visitor's entrance. Once inside the enormous refrigerated room, our eager eyes scanned the rows of bulky tuna covered in thin layers of ice. Tsukiji employees paced about in their heavy rain boots and pastel ponchos, checking the status of the tuna with iron picks.

With only ten minutes left, the clang of the auctioneer's bells broke the quiet of the tuna fridge. Quick as lightning, words poured out of the auctioneer's mouth faster than I could interpret. A man next to him looked up at a few roaming prospective buyers and scribbled notes on his clipboard. An English-speaking tour guide from behind me explained how 3,000 tuna are sold in the forty-minute auction period each day. I was astounded and let my camera do its snapping and filming of the exciting spectacle. After the five or so minutes of shouting out prices, the auctioneer threaded his way in between the lined up tuna, carrying a small can of red paint; the fish he stained with a red Kanji character meant "sold."

As a security guard hastened us to move on for the next group, my camera kept on clicking. Once outside, another guard shooed me just as a huge, black tuna came into my line of sight. As soon as I passed the guard, I stealthily hurried over and followed the cart carrier and his prize fish. My final exception--failing to adhere to authority to get the picture--was thus fulfilled.


Capturing the best shot of the morning, I know my photo-crazed Papa would be proud.

8am

Jack and I returned to our apartment where my bed greeted me with open arms. I couldn't stop smiling as I sailed into dreamland, knowing my dreams could not compete with my all-nighter adventure.