Best. Weekend. Ever.

This past weekend is up for the award of “Best. Weekend. Ever.”

Friday: George and I slept in until 11am. Awesome. And so refreshing. We had Subway for lunch, did a little shopping, watched The Kings Speech (excellent, by the way), and then went to the Officer’s club for dinner. A handful of us had a drink at our place, and then met up with a second handful of people and walked to some local bars, did a little dancing, socializing etc… and then we wound up at a Filipino Karaoke bar. And that was fun too. I haven’t karaoked in a while so that was enjoyable, and then we took a cab home and got a little sleep.

Saturday: We were up by 8:30, dressed, showered, coffeed, and headed to our friend’s Melissa and Matt’s house. We picked them up and drove the 1.5 hours to downtown Tokyo to the New Sanno Hotel. It’s a US military owned fancy hotel in Tokyo and it’s just charming.

We got checked into our rooms, dropped our stuff off and then took a walk to the train station, and trained it up to Frijoles. Frijoles is the closest thing to Mexican food we get here in Japan. It’s basically a delectable Chipotle knockoff. I got a rice bowl instead of a burrito and as I watched everyone else eating theirs, I highly regretted that decision. Luckily, George let me have a little bite of his.

We’d gotten a suggestion from our friend Kate to go to Ebisu to the Yebisu Beer Museum. So… we went. It was neat to see the history of beer in Japan. After WWII Yebisu didn’t produce any beer until the 70’s so there was a big gap in their time line. We did some birru (Japanese for beer, in case you didn’t figure that out) tasting, and took a picture with a super cute Japanese girl wearing a shirt that said “Chelsea” on the front. [There’s a popular Japanese candy they sell here and the brand name is Chelsea, so when introducing myself to Japanese people, they can normally relate my name to that and they get it. (This girl’s shirt was not of the candy name, and none of this even applies to my story. Please ignore. End rant.)]

At the Yebisu Beer Museum

Chelsea!

This was a poster at one of the train stations. Please note: You are not allowed to take a bike on a train because it will bump people in the butt, and make tiny firemen wearing backpacks lose their hats. You also cannot fold them up, or put them in bags. Lesson learned. Thanks for the tip, train poster!

We got back to the hotel, showered and rallied for---get ready for this---A BEATLES THEMED DINNER AND SHOW. AKA, the best idea ever. YES! I made George et al suit up and us chicks wore pretty dresses. I don’t really believe that there’s such thing as “overdressed” so we were not overdressed. Everyone else was under dressed. And not even everyone. Actually, there was quite a mix of American riff raff. We saw people in anything from Jeans and t-shirts to suits and cocktail dresses. (The latter being us)

The doors opened at 6:30 so at 6:35 we were walking through the door of the giant ballroom of the hotel. It was, in every sense of the word, magical. The room itself was beautiful but the thought and detail put into the evening is what really made it sparkle. There was a 60foot wide screen playing Beatles movies all night long (not with sound), 6 giant blown up posters of their various album covers (that’s what they used to call CD’s, or Mp3’s for all you younger folks), a bar in the corner titled “The Cavern Club”, a drink menu featuring drinks such as a “Yellow Submarine” or my drink of choice for the evening, “Love Me Do”. It was genius. It was coordinated beautifully and I truly tip my hat to the designers and coordinators of the evening. They even gave away hats and “John Lennon glasses” for us to wear. We had a great time taking pictures with these props, and I think they really added an extra pull into the 1960’s for a few hours.

The bar.

Our table number. What a cute detail!

We all live in a yellow submarine.

We ordered a few cocktails, and got in line for the buffet, which was delicious. I had lamb, roast beef and ham with various sides of pasta, fruit, and salad. I didn’t get very far into my meal because the band “The Parrots” took the stage and my head was spinning with excitement. Straight up excitement. I could hardly sit still. I tried to force down some food but just wanted to dance! (Cue Dane Cook sketch)

If you recall, in April my mom, sister and I went to Las Vegas for the sole purpose of seeing The Beatles Cirque du Soleil show “Love” [well maybe not the sole purpose, but major purpose]. As the band came on and began their first song, I actually felt a little family sick (kind of like homesick, but not really missing the place, just the people). I wished my mom could have been there too. She would have loved it. The energy was vibrant and colorful and it took everything in me to sit still and eat. Sometimes George would get up and dance with me, but sometimes he’d just stare blankly at me and say “again?” Although he is the one who understands me the most in the world, his little heart is just not as into the Beatles as much as mine is. I can’t blame him. Not many hearts are. Lucky for me, Melissa was a fantastic sport and followed me out to the dance floor each time. We had a blast.

The Parrots were a really great cover band. They’re all Japanese natives, and each one played so well it really felt like I was listening to a Beatles record (another word for CD or MP3). Every cord was played to a tee, and during the first song I even questioned if they weren’t lip-synching. The only song of the evening I found a tad bit off was “Back in the U.S.S.R.” when the “R.” was pronounced much more like someone whose first language is Japanese would be. It didn’t hinder the spirit of the evening and only added to it. I mean hello? I’m in Japan, listening to a Japanese Beatles cover band. What more could a girl ask for???

Dereck, Jane, Me, George, Melissa, and Matt

We clean up nicely!

All you need is love.

The girls

The boys

Anywho… the night sadly came to an end (well… the show at least) but they announced the band would be back in October (YES!!!) and they also announced that we could find them playing at the Abbey Road Club in Roppongi. I turn to the group and say “google it!!!” So they do. And then the 5 of us (Poor Jane was sick, so she went to bed) head to the street to yield a cab. Well… I am no stranger to seatbelt laws. And I know that you can’t put 5 people in one taxi. So I’m counting the number of people we have over and over. 5. Yep. There’s 5 of us. 4 seats in a car. 5 people. Plus a driver. Uh-oh. We’re not going to fit. But some of the people in our group say “Daijoubu.” (Which means, “it’s okay/it’s fine/don’t worry about it”… or at least that’s how we all use it) “Daijoubu is repeated about 10 times to me, and then the cab pulls up. And he counts us as we are piling in. 5 people. 4 seats in the car. 5 people. Plus a driver. The group repeats "Daijoubu," and again I think they’re talking to me. We’ve all piled in and the doors are closed. “Daijoubu” is said again and again and somewhere in here I realize they are no longer reassuring me, but the taxi driver too. Which for some reason I find hysterical. And I don’t mean giggling-hysterical. I mean… OMG I’m going to pee my pants (dress), and cry hysterical. I could. Not. Stop. Laughing. I don’t know what was so funny, probably the fact that we all were still wearing our funny hats and glasses. It might have been the repeated and I mean repeated (over 100 times at this point) “Daijoubu.” Whatever it may have been, I laughed. And Melissa has her hand over my mouth because the driver is very distressed that “Daijoubu” is still being repeated. Once I am almost completely composed a Japanese cop car pulls up next to us at a red light. Driver starts yelling in Japanese and motioning for one of us to duck. I get shoved in a doubled over position where I laugh again. Hysterically. When we finally pulled up to the club we all shout “Sugoi!!!” (Which means great/awesome/super!) It doesn’t really translate well at all. Imagine driving a group of Japanese nationals around in America and at their destination they all shout “Super!” It sounds really stupid now, but at the time, it made perfect sense. I promise. Cab drivers don’t accept tips in Japan. (Neither do waiters, doormen, or anyone else in the service industry). But, this guy did accept our tip. No questions asked. I can’t imagine why.

We get to the club, go inside and it’s an all Beatles, all the time kind of place. (AKA, my kind of place). However, the band was only playing another half hour and then the place closed only 20 minutes after that, and they wanted roughly $40USD per person to get in. So… we left. We still managed to have one of the funnest evenings I’ve ever had. We went to a “shot bar” (for a brief few moments), several stops at the local Family Mart’s and/or 7-11’s, a Latin dance club called Copa Cabana, (where we met a group of guys waiting in line for the elevator (club was a few stories up) (Can you put parentheses inside of parentheses? I say yes.) and I assume these guys are Hispanic. I said something to one of them in English and got no response so I tried conversing in Spanish by asking where they were from, and why they were in Tokyo. I got a few blank stares and then one of them says “no English” and I’m thinking, “Yeah dumbass, that’s why I’m talking to you in Spanish…” after a while we figured out that they were from Turkey. How could I have known?)

After some great dancing and a drink at the Copa Cabana, we finally had some Kebab’s from a street vendor. Melissa kept talking about Kebab's and I could only imagine meat on a stick, which is fantastic, but it was actually chicken rubbed in some sort of heavenly sauce and stuffed into a pita. It was awesome. After a failed attempt at finding another place to dance and realizing it was almost 2am we finally gave up and found another taxi to take us back to the hotel. We went into this ride a little more prepared and thought it would be easier if we snuck Melissa into the taxi. She climbed in first and then ducked right down. I tried to lean over a little so it looked like I was up against the door. I don’t think we fooled this guy, by sneaking an entire person in the car, but it sounded like a good plan at the time. He didn’t seem to mind. And he did like 70MPH all the way back to the hotel. Not so safe. We arrived back at our hotel at 2:30am. I think it’s probably the latest I’ve ever stayed out. Well, maybe not, but all I know is… I was dead dog tired when we got there.

Sunday: Fast forward an incredible 6 hours later and we’re up. (Well, I’m up. Wide awake.) I showered and packed up the room, and got George up. We met our friends Chelsea and Rob in the lobby. (They drove down to spend Sunday with us) And we met back up with Matt and Melissa, and the 6 of us went to the legendary and renowned “Sunday Brunch” that the New Sanno hotel offers. It was in the same room as the Beatles night and I was shocked and awed at how quickly the room was changed to look so incredibly different. Instead of 1960’s themed, it was completely elegant and posh. There was a baby grand piano on the stage with a performer… she even played “Georgia on my Mind”… which this time made me feel homesick, and not just family sick. Funny how a song can do that to me. No matter where I am when I hear it, when I do, I think of Georgia pines, magnolia trees, Daddy's breakfast and my family. I can even taste the sweet tea and feel the warm humid summers. Seriously. Ahhh nostalgia.

I’m off topic. Bottom line… brunch was great. I wish I could have stomached more food. They had breakfast, lunch, a gigantic fruit tray, bagels, breads, waffles, crepes, an omelet station, juice, coffee, champagne, pork, ham, roast beef, pizza… really… anything you can think of… they served it. And it was beautifully decorated. The silver was shiny, the cloth napkins were ironed. It was lovely.

We met up with Dereck and Jane (who was feeling much better) and we all headed to see the Blue Man Group. I had heard it was a good show but was actually a little skeptical. I was afraid it would be men painted blue drumming the whole time. How wrong I was. It was really entertaining. The energy was great, the crowd was pumped, it was comical and sweet, and witty and smart. I loved it. I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t seen it.

After the show the Blue Men came out into the show lobby. They were still in complete costume and complete character. They never smiled. Never spoke. It was incredible. I’m much too giggly to ever be an actress of any sort. I think everything is funny. For one reason or another (probably because I’m blond and easily stand out in a crowd of 100’s of Japanese) one of the Blue guys and I made eye contact, and he walked over to me. I had my camera out, and snapped a picture of him. He stayed in complete character and looked at my camera like he’d never seen one, but didn’t mind me taking his photo. So while I still had his attention I put my face closer to his and turned the camera around to point the two of us and took a picture. It was pretty funny. Then he looked at me again and facing me dead on, with our eyes locked… he starts jumping up and down. And I mean jumping! So what do I do in response? I start jumping too! Except I kind of hopped, and shouted “oh boy!” cause it was just too fun of an experience. Our group and the surrounding Japanese spectators we’d gathered got a big kick out of it too.

Matt, Melissa, Me, George, Jane, Dereck, Chelsea (and baby) and Rob

Once we left the theater we found one more Blue Man and I had our group of 7 bombard him and stand by him and take a group picture.

George and I headed home after that. There was no traffic and took us only an hour drive! Sweet! It was such a great weekend and I’m looking forward to doing it again soon. Sometimes we get so wrapped up in activities to do on the base that we easily forget how close TOKYO is to us. As the crow flies it’s just a stone’s throw away, but it’s just such a hassle to get down there. Driving there we face the challenge of traffic and tolls. Trains, well… it’s a train ride, and it’s expensive. And I can’t convince George to steal a C-130 to fly me down there… something about nowhere to land, and prison. He’s a buzz-kill sometimes. HA!

Here's to more Beatles Weekends in my near future!
Cheers,

Chelsea