July 18th
I didn’t know much about Ginza before walking into Ginza. Ginza is a district within Tokyo that appears to be the city’s main hub for everything “posh”. Ginza is to Tokyo as Beverley Hills is to Los Angeles. But Ginza, more importantly, is to Ginza as Ginza is to Ginza. Ginza, Ginza, Ginza…
Greg and myself had stumbled into Ginza with the intention of eating at a local favorite spot by the name of “Guy-An” in order to eat some of the cheapest (but well reviewed) beef in Tokyo. Sadly for us, we were informed on arrival that the restaurant would be closed all day to honor “Marine Day”.
What you will learn quickly while traveling the world is that other countries take their national holidays a little more seriously. Let’s put it this way: You wouldn’t have to worry about finding an open place to eat on Veteran’s Day in the states.
So after receiving the news, we were “Hangry” to say the least. It was time to look into other options. Greg and I have had sushi practically every day, and we were now keen on keeping that train rolling. With the help of Siri, I was given a list of “Cheap sushi restaurants in Ginza”. I forgot the name of the first place that popped up, but that’s where we went. Let’s just call the place “Oh Fuck”. Does that work? Good! Moving on…
We arrive via 3G navigation to a 4-story building, no signs of “Oh Fuck” to be seen. Figuring it was on one of the floors, we stuck around and asked people like typical derpy tourists. Out of nowhere, a white man in a blazer pops out from behind us like a guardian angel or some shit…
Blazer Guy: “Looking for the sushi bar? Second Floor. It opens in 5 minutes though”.
Blazer Guy walks away. Who was this guy? What does he do here in Japan? Does he speak Japanese too? Where the fuck did he come from? Is he on a lunch break? Did he just step out of an international business meeting? I’d find out soon enough.
After killing 5 minutes at a gift shop on the first floor, we make our way up to the second, in hopes of gorging on some sushi. We step into an 8-seat sushi bar, and that is all. If you’ve seen the amazing documentary film “Jiro Dreams of Sushi” you can sort of picture what we walked into. If you have not seen the film, do yourself a favor. I think it’s still on Netflix…
So standing before us in this intimate setting are a row of sushi chefs.
Head Sushi Chef: “You have reservation?”
Greg: “Uhh… no? Do we need one?”
Me (under breath): “Oh fuck…”
There are 4 people sitting at the sushi bar: A couple on the right end and a couple on the left. The man from the couple on the left was Blazer Guy. I was beginning to realize why he was wearing a blazer and I didn’t like it…
“Oh fuck…”
Do you remember that scene from “The Empire Strikes Back”? You know, when the door slides open to the dining room, and the team is greeted by Lord Vader? Yeah, it reminded me of that. Meanwhile there were as many sushi chefs as there were people standing in front of us.
Head Sushi Chef: “It’s ok… sit down sit down”
The Blazer Guy was shooting us a look that would be spelled out as something like: “Are you fucking kidding me?”…. He probably made this reservation months ago, which means I was getting scared.
“Oh fuck…”
We sat down hesitantly as the sushi chefs prepared for war, breaking down the wasabi and sharpening their blades of sushi slaughter.
“Oh fuck…”
The Blazer guy and his significant other are handed a drink menu. The head sushi chef approaches us…
Head Sushi Chef: “Drink?”
External Me: “Uh water?”
Internal Me: “Oh fuck…”
To the left, Blazer guy is scanning the sake options…
Blazer Guy (to chef): “You know, we first ate here EXACTLY one year ago…”
“Oh fuck…”
At this point the chefs had cracked open a couple fancy ass bottles of water for us (probably melted ice from Mt. Fuji or some shit honestly), along with a menu. We’re also shitting our pants now.
There wasn’t an option under $200 a person…
“Oh fuck…”
“Oh fuck…”
“Oh fuck…”
^Just about all of these throughout the story were internalized, but a few of these were mumbled to Greg at this point.
I don’t remember exactly what we said before handing the menus back and making our escape, but I do remember my hands motioning something like “Don’t kill us, please”. I was also trying really hard not to laugh. A few chuckles made it out as we scurried out. We left “Oh Fuck” with our assholes pinched so tight you couldn’t cram a butt-fucking pea up them if you tried.
**July 19*
With all that said and done, we look forward to making our second attempt at “Guy-An”. I forgot mention earlier that it serves specifically Kobe beef, and will cost $100.
Travel Boners 