That Time I Punched A Guy in the Face

 You know that saying “bad luck comes in threes?” I think it should be “bad luck comes in a baker's dozen,” because everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong that particular night. 

Proof that I smiled at some point

 

 Strike # 1: She (i.e. Me) Doesn’t Even Go Here! 

This past July, I attended a farewell party that I was not originally invited to. I sound like a party crasher, but it was a parting celebration for a specific person who I knew, but not very well. I was invited at the last minute but looking back, I shouldn’t have gone in the first place.

Strike #2 & 3: Naha, Why You So Far?

& Sober Sister Status!

The party was going to start at an izayaka (bar/restaurant) in Naha, make a pit stop at a bar, and then migrate to a local club. Naha, the capital of Okinawa, was about an hour away from Ginoza via highway and due to Japan’s strict no-drinking-and-driving laws; I would be plagued with sobriety.

Strike #4: So You’re Telling Me I Have to Pay for Alcohol I Won’t Drink?

When I arrived at the izayaka, I was told that nomihodai (all you can drink) and tabehodai (all you can eat) was around ¥3,000 (around $30). Apparently, the original price I was told, around ¥1,600yen (around $16), was for either nomihodai or tabehodai, but not for both.

***

That’s cool!

 I’ll just do the tabehodai, since I’m obviously not drinking!

Wait, I can’t?

 We all need to pay ¥3,000?

They can’t split it?

But I’m not even drinking!

Shoganai (it can’t be helped, so just accept my fate), huh?

Ugggh!

***

Strike #5: The Price is Too Damn High 

Thirty dollars may not seem much for foodies, but the problem was that the food was mostly skewers, fries, salads, and sushi – basically finger food. As a pescatarian, I had a limited choice of mainly sushi and salad. I couldn’t believe I was paying ¥3,000 for sushi and salad, a meal that is less than ¥1,000 ($10) in Japan. Ugh!

Strike #6: Asshole Says I’m Not “Easy on the Eyes,” Except for, Like, My Eyes.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one to pay for their sobriety, but my sister in sobriety wasn’t limited by the selection of food though. We all left the izakaya, where I reluctantly paid my ¥3,000, and migrated to a nearby bar. Although I was salty about the izakaya and the fact I was sipping water at a bar, I had a good time talking to my fellow OkiJETs. However, that good time didn’t last very long, because we were interrupted buy another JET who told me,

“I hate everything about you but your eyes.”

Normal people would just say, “I love your eyes,” so I was a bit confused. I thought he was just throwing some playful shade, so I retorted, “That can’t be true! Everyone loves my hair!” To which he replied, “No, I don’t like your hair. It’s whatever” and discussed why my hair sucked. I would never consider myself a ten, but my hair? That shit is perfect! You couldn’t find better hair on Jesus, who is the personification of perfection! Insult my hair, and you insult my hair kami (spirit). I don’t know what the hell kind of stunt this guy tried to pull. Was he trying to knock me off my “pretty-girl pedestal” that I wasn’t even on? I don’t know! Why couldn’t I just be left in peace?

 Bonus #1: Save ALL the Money! 

I was agitated with the way the night turned out, and I could feel myself falling into a resting bitch face. However, we were headed to a club where I could dance to my hearts content, so it would be OK – or so I thought.

At Club Fantasy Space Okinawa, we were given a group discount, but I noticed a few particular problems: the cramped space and the disproportionate amount of women to men. Clubs in the U.S. usually strive for more women attendees than men, but this club had men outnumbering women by 15 to 1. It was a horde of sexual harassment and I was about to dance in the middle of it. A few ladies and I formed a protective circle and made our way to the dance floor. 

Strike # 7 : Creepers! Creepers Everywhere! 

The music was great, but the foreign men, who I assume were high-ranked American military personnel were treating the club like their personal frat party. They began to mosh around and crash into anyone nearby. I had to push a few guys to prevent them from jumping on me and my petite friends. After the moshing ceased, the harassment began. Guys, both Japanese and foreign, would snake their arms around my waist in an attempt pull me back onto their denim cocks. Others would grab my forearm, and a few would stand too close and just stare.

Those who have been to the club with me know that I react very aggressively. I will push away arms in disgust or blatantly tell a guy to “back the f*ck up.” Even at my most drunk, I would never succumb to those sort of sexist advances. That being said, I was disappointed to see that some women did.

Strike #8: M.A.C. Lipstick: $18; Punching A Guy in the Face: Priceless

As the number of ladies in our protective circle dwindled to three, we moved to the back of the dance floor. While dancing, I felt two hands grab my hips and pull. I quickly removed the hands and turned toward the guy, a Japanese guy, and said “No!” When I turned around to face my friend, I felt it. I felt a hand grab and squeeze my butt cheek through my silky pants. (#YesALLWoman)

I turned around to see his hand retreat, but he faced his friend and LAUGHED at his flagrant violation. I attacked instantly and punched him in the face with my right hand, which was reinforced by my hard clutch. He fell, but when I moved forward to continue my chonga assault, I noticed my phone on the floor. All the contents of my purse spilled out onto the dance floor. I recovered most of my belongings expect for my M.A.C. lipstick.

Strike #9: F*ck Me, Right?

The bouncers came and removed the guy and his friend from the club, while I found a chair and sat there for the remainder of the night. When it was time of leave, I made my round of goodbyes, stopping to talk to a few friends. One JET expressed how sad she was that the girl, whose party this was for, was leaving. I said, "Yea, imagine how you'll feel when (sober sister) and I leave!" I didn't know how drunk she was, but my words pushed her to the verge to tears. Naturally, I moved forward to hug and console her, but I was shoved away.

I got into my car and drove home; the best part of my night.

Disclaimer: This telling of events is in my perspective. Also, my bad mood in the beginning of the night did not have a factor in whether or not I would have punched that guy in the face. I would have done it even if I had a wonderful time. I don't tolerate being touched, ever. For the sake of privacy, I omitted names. However, I didn't sugar coat any of the "strikes." I don't live in a world of unicorn kitties, and neither should my blog. (-`ェ´-怒)