Donny the dentist

I came over to Japan to see what it had to offer. More precisely, I came over for a rest.
I needed it. After going flat chat for 2 years I had reached the end of my functional piece of string.
Never before I had functioned for two years, I doubt I will again.

I spent the majority of my teens and young adult life being non functional.
At the point I crossed over into adulthood (approx 29 years of age) I had myself a little breakdown, the mother of all dysfunction and started rebuilding until low and behold I looked just like everyone else!

Anyhow thats what bought me to Japan. I needed a rest. Jetstar that under privileged airline went beyond themselves
and afforded me my own line of seats with which to sprawl out on for an entire 8 hrs. They wanted to charge me for movies and television to which I resisted and I read S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders and kept swinging wildly between opinions that hoodlums did not speak like that to each other at any stage of life , and god bless the socially downtrodden and what a wonderful young adult depiction of adolescence it was!!

Anyhow, flawless was delivery from Narita airport into my little dark hotel room on a Friday night in one of the premium cities of the world! I was free....and I felt it. Out I headed to get mildly drunk so I could partake in that thing Ive missed since functionality became my bed partner...sleep. I was going to sleep like a motherfucker on this trip. I was a golden boy I tells ya. Pure in thought and all the corners tucked in nicely and to be in a city that appreciated such stylings too... Tokyo..you do impress me.

Anyhow down the dark steps of my favorite sake bar I trod and after some awkward exchanges between customer and owner I force my way agreeing to whatever conditions he just set down for entry and I start to drink and check my phone which has no network until i get the feel of things around me.

3 or 4 sakes later and a bowl of soba Im ready to leave and head to bed when a strapping young gent whom later identifies himself as Donny the dentist from Glasgow rolls in and it's only polite for me to stay and have another sake with him. He's got a trendy pair of overalls on and chest hair popping out from beneath his singlet and blue eyes that offset his olive skin. Dark hair and a thin Scottish accent that I can easily understand and admire. We talk and drink. About the riots, Brighton, Bristol, dentistry, Melbourne and other get to know you things. Lovely.

He tells me about a tiny little club right around the corner from here that is supposed to play great tunes, not techno which Donnie doesnt like and he presumes already that I will be coming with him. Im powerless. Once someone has presumed something of me I normally give it. Had he asked genuinely Id have found the ability to decline, but he presumed and I accepted. It's how most of my drug taking took place in my 20's.

Anyhow we trundle down to the club and Donnie is right! It's amazing!!! Tiny, full and great music from the 50's. Im at home. Im drunk well and truly now but not messy and Im with Donnie who is chasing women all over the dancefloor only to exclaim to me with his lips tripping over themselves in his generic Scottish accent that 'i'll take that as a no then'....the lady eventually turning down his request for god knows what. Donnie, careful I think...it's not that type of club. People are here to enjoy themselves not be chased around by a dentist.

Anyhow I eventually leave Donnie and spill out into the street, really drunk now. Damn it...all that transience from the plane ride bought undone in a matter of hours!! Im a useless white male I think to myself. All the philosophy, the commitment to tranquility bought undone by one strapping 25 year old dentist from Glasgow! Damn you Donnie! Damn you.

The next day I receive an email from Donnie. I must have passed it onto him at the height of my intoxication. It is brief and says he feels like boiled dog shit. I read on and he says the usual...if you're ever in the UK look me up and vice a versa...Then it signs off with this.

'As a tip, you should check to see if the toilets in your hotel have the arse jet wash system that the ones here do. Never come across them before but it really seems to help with the hangover.'

I laughed heartily, returned to my hotel and immediately took a seat upon my toilet and took Donnie's advice.
He was dead right. It really did help.

Thanks Donnie. For all of it. Arse jet and all