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About Nagoya

But then you get the creeps, don’t ya? The punters—sweaty, baldin’ tossers who reckon they’re God’s gift. “I’m a real man,” they’d slur, like in the film—*“I’m a gangster, a free man!”*—but nah, mate, you’re just a sad sack with a fiver. Makes me angry, that does, the entitlement. I’d wanna scream, “Oi, you wanker, she’s not your bloody therapist!” Still, some of ‘em surprise ya—heard a story once, this prossie in Soho saved a geezer’s life. He was chokin’ on a kebab, she Heimliched him—hero stuff! Didn’t expect that, did I? Nearly pissed myself laughin’ thinkin’ bout it.

A Guide to the Tokyo Red Light District

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But then, the night takes a turn. We’re walking back, and I see this street performer on Takeshita Street. He’s amazing! Playing the shamisen like a pro. I’m mesmerized. But then, some drunk dude stumbles into him, and it’s chaos. I’m ready to throw down, but the performer just laughs it off.

Waymo robotaxi finds itself pulled over by Tokyo police