‘Time to make a plan.’ I thought, as the highway bus finally made its way into the centre of Tokyo. 

It was late, I had no accommodation booked and the whole night to go until I could jump on the subway and get to the hostel I had booked for the next day. 

I would be staying out overnight in the world’s biggest metropolis. 

It was me and my bag vs the world, a foreign world. 

Tokyo was very different from the peace and chilled pace of Fukuoka and the electric, yet friendly Osaka. The stereotype of it being a cold and distant capital full of robotic salary workers was proving mostly true on first encounter. A sense of brooding indifference floated around in the air. 

I walked around in circles thinking up a plan. I wore myself out and swallowed panic attacks before they could get a foothold, I was nervous and doing my best to look confident. Weakness, doubt, worry, these are states that never get you anywhere. 

Tokyo, the blue whale, the biggest city in the world. 

I was out of my ship and in the water, smacking away the krill and frantically fighting through. 

Tokyo, the blue whale, about to lunge. 

I opened my eyes wide and drank in all of the lights, the faces, the sounds, the danger in the air. My mind hit back hard at it all. 

I got back on my ship. Tokyo, swam on by. 

I calmed myself down and made a pre-plan plan which consisted of retreating into the safety of a CoCo curry house and formulating my next moves over a hotdog curry. 

CoCo had become one of my favourite restaurants in Japan. I would sometimes wait across the street until it opened during my time in Fukuoka. It wasn’t just the cheap, good curry that got me hooked, I liked the rituals, the glass of water when you arrived, the waiters and waitresses who diligently carried out the piping hot curry within a few minutes of it being ordered and who rocked up nearer as the last bite went down as if to say time to go now sir. 

It was efficient but it also had soul. Rarely efficiency and soul combine well. In my current state I needed that comfort. 

I mixed the slim weiners doused in thick curry sauce with the white rice and tried to forget about the ghoul of Tokyo staring at me through the window. 

I would have to survive the next seven hours out there. 

A few possibilities began crossing my mind – I could spend a significant chunk of my monthly budget on a nightclub or bar, find a public park and camp out under a tree with a bag of 7-Eleven food until morning or find a Manboo net cafe, whip out my gold members card and get some sleep. 

The last idea was the obvious choice for the night but I decided against it, it was probably a subconscious warning against not wanting to be as homeless in Tokyo as I had been in Fukuoka. I was determined to avoid that lifestyle. 

I would stay out tonight and in the morning I would check into the hostel, meet people and enjoy Tokyo with them. 

I put together the plan as the last of the CoCo patrons were leaving and the staff began shutting up shop. 

      ///

The Plan 

Put my bag in a locker in Shinjuku station

Find a 24hr restaurant with WiFi 

Memorise the way to my hostel 

Countdown the hours 

                                                    \\\

I repeated the list whenever I felt out of my depth. 

I finished my first mission and was finding the second more difficult. The 24hr McDonald’s was promising from the street, it looked the part for an overnight bunker. 

Inside it was the set of a low budget zombie film. 

‘Oh fuck, no!’ 

The floor was smeared from door to counter and wall to wall with liquid dirt, groups of spaced out burgervores protecting their corners, the homeless of Tokyo all there to outlast the night until morning. I was looked at with suspicion. An unwanted foreign invader. 

I didn’t stay long. 

’What a weird name for a diner.’ I thought, standing in front of the American style restaurant. Jonathan’s was the only 24hr place I found that didn’t look hostile to having a foreigner crash out in it for the night. I went in and took a booth around the corner away from the crowd. 

I ordered a cake with whipped cream and a coffee. I tried my best to make them last but I couldn’t help stuffing them all down into my gut before making any real dent in the hours. 

I moved from the hidden booth to the open area nearer the counter. I was paranoid, if I was stuck around the corner looking dishevelled they might turn against me. I didn’t know much about how this Jonathan’s place operated. Much better to be out front and centre proudly displaying my dishevelled self. 

HERE I AM FUCKERS! 

I ordered another plate of below average food and this time slowly picked at it. I was still in the process of digesting a curry, a cake and a coffee, testing my stomach further wouldn’t have been helpful. 

My phone battery was creeping toward 0 and with nowhere to charge it, I memorised the directions to the hostel and let it die. 

Without a phone to look at, I was now a prisoner of the walls, cold chairs, cheap paintings and menu, I was sentenced to a night of Jonathan’s. With nothing to occupy myself with, I called over the waitress for another round. 

“Before you order again, can I take payment for your others?” it was more of a statement than a question. 

I could tell what she was thinking, ‘Must be some unsavoury broke foreign vagabond!’ which I was, but still, she didn’t have to be so weird about it, ‘Fuck you!’ I thought as I handed over the yen and ordered my fourth meal of the night. 

After a long stay at Jonathon’s, the sun finally began to rise and the sky outside turned an inky blue. 

Half delirious, I ventured back to Shinjuku Station to collect my bag and find somewhere else to spend time while I waited for the hostel’s afternoon check-in time to arrive. 

I decided on watching a movie. 

It was instant buyer’s regret. As soon as I had the ticket in my hand, I felt a kind of repulsion. 

‘Why did I do that?’ 

Diana. 

I took the ticket outside, slipped out a cigarette and smoked up the final thought on the matter. 

‘Diana can’t be the first movie I watch in Tokyo.’ 

I tossed the stick, binned the ticket and went back inside to find something more interesting. I chose to see R100, a Japanese language film. I knew nothing about it, except that it would be in Japanese and it was better than watching Diana. 

I took a seat in the back row. I was alone at first and was hoping it would stay that way, I could get some rest in the dark while the movie I couldn’t understand played. 

Just as the movie started a Japanese girl came walking up the aisle and sat down two seats over. She could have sat anywhere, but decided on being just a few feet from me. 

The film was interesting, I could work out the general story, a middle-aged single father who joins some BDSM thing. 

Just as I was getting into the film I noticed the girl two seats over staring at me. Not too obvious at first, she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye while still feigning to watch the movie. A few minutes later the first contact was made. 

A kick. 

A testing of the waters. 

Every few minutes another one would arrive. 

Her foot brushes my leg. 

Her arm stretches out, reaching for me. 

Obvious long stare. 

My heart rate shot up. I understood pretty quickly what she wanted. The images of her kneeling in front of me, head in motion, started to flash across my mind. 

‘Is this usual in Japan?’

‘Is there something more to this BDSM film, a place sexed up Japanese woman went looking for partners?’ 

‘Is she a maniac?’ 

It was dark but I could tell she was attractive. 

I started making calculations. 

Maybe her plan was to come in, sit at the back and have some fun. 

After running things through in my mind, I put the odds of that being the case at around 90% but the 10% chance that she was just accidentally touching me and the stares were innocent was still too high to make a move. 

I made the decision and calmed my heart back down. I wasn’t going to be set upon by a bunch of Japanese moviegoers because the foreigner made a move on a Japanese girl at the back of the theatre during a BDSM movie. 

I wasn’t risking that, not now. Not this tired. 

The touches continued until the credits began to roll. 

I left feeling like I had just watched a really good film in a language I didn’t understand while being seductively kicked by a Japanese girl. 

I knew it would be a great story one day, but until I got some sleep all I could feel was irritated and slightly creeped out. I needed that sleep, the sleep of the dead, eight hours of sweet, deep sleep. 

I was done with this day, I wanted it to end. I made my way to the subway station and took the train towards a bed. 

The hostel I booked was located near the newly opened Tokyo Skytree. The Skytree looked odd up there in the clear blue sky, an alien air traffic control tower out of place among the small urban houses and stores at street level. 

I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. It was too unusual of a thing not to be in awe of but at the same time too stupid to take seriously. I put it in a folder marked *I don’t know yet* and stormed towards my sleep. I was so fucking happy to finally have a sleep. 

“You have two bookings under the same name.” said the hostel worker at the front desk. 

“No, I have one.” I replied sharply. 

“Yes but we have received two bookings for Brad Nicholls.” 

I already knew where this was going. 

They were in for something special. I took in a deep breath, filling my lungs with enough air to hold a jetliner and… 

3

2

1

I lost my shit. 

Which is rare for me. 

I let out all of the air in my lungs with a sustained roar against the injustices and bullshit now facing me. 

I screamed high quality sense into the staff, then got the hostel manager on the phone and screamed more high quality sense at him. None of this sense was making its way through into their heads though. 

It was a lost cause, I knew it. They had my card details, they were going to charge it, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for them. I was going to get more than my money’s worth.  

Why try to rip people off? Is the price of selling one more bed for a night worth being known as a shitty hostel? 

For this hostel it was worth it. 

I fired some more rage-truth missiles and then left. 

Fuck ‘em. 

Scum destined for the sewers of hell. 

Swim in my shit, you pissbreathfucktoadscuntfacedbitchesss… 

Alright, let’s move on.

I bought a new pack of cigarettes and chain smoked as Tokyo Skytree stood in perpetual stillness, a shining grey monument of calm and strength. I decided I liked it. I liked Tokyo Skytree. 

I wasn’t going to let some hacky hostel get to me. It was time for a new plan. It was time for this strangest of days to take a turn in my favour. I was determined to win it. 

A bench by the river was a welcome respite from my walking and my thinking. I smoked, smoked more, cigarette after cigarette and cleared my cluttered mind. 

_

The Plan 

Take the Subway back to Shinjuku 

Find a net cafe 

Sleep 

_

Down one of Shinjuku’s busy main streets I found what I was looking for. Minutes later I was half asleep in a leather chair trying to incorporate the mass of surrounding sounds into my dreams. The coughs, the frantic thuds of wanking, fast typing and mouse clicking. The sounds danced together in my ears. 

Sleep, I hated sleep. Only because I couldn’t fucking get any. 

My time was up and I needed a more permanent home. I was becoming exactly what I didn’t want. I was homeless again. 

I left the net cafe and was concentrating hard on the act of walking. 

‘Was this the same day or a new one?’ I wondered to myself. 

A whole day of bus travel from Osaka, a night of eating plate after plate of food I didn’t want in Jonathan’s, being groped in a cinema, fighting in a hostel, an afternoon of eyes closed yet mind wide awake slumber in a chair and now I was back on the streets of Shinjuku. 

‘When does my body decide to stop?’ 

Death through exhaustion, falling head first into traffic or face down into curry. It was never too far away. 

I would go through a lot of this thinking on the three year journey. 

I made my way back into Shinjuku Station, not a good place to be when you’re sleep deprived. I willed myself through the structures of mass commute and escaped on the other side. 

And then I stopped. 

I don’t know why I stopped. Advertising isn’t something that usually causes me to stop in my tracks and focus. Tokyo, painted with all kinds of bright lights and colours allows you to blur advertisements into the background automatically. 

I did stop though. 

MANBOO NETROOMS  

The small sign on the pavement was too good to be true. It was offering me a room, not just an open box with a chair but a room that I could stay in all day and night AND for just a little more than the price of a net cafe. 

I fucking loved that sign. 

I studied the map on the sign and used the last of my dying battery to find the way there. I marched toward her like a lover coming home from war. 

It was everything the sign had promised and more. A full room with a padded floor acting as a bed, a computer with internet, TV, sink, mirror and vending machines, high-tech toilets, warm showers and laundry all in the building and incredibly cheap for a 24 hour stay. 

I was home. 

Which presented a new problem. I liked it a bit too much. Alone, with no new people to meet and nothing to force myself to step outside of the comfort, I lived like a hermit. 

For the next month I would stay within Shinjuku as if I had some awful disease that would turn my blood to tomato sauce if I left it. 

Hermit Man! Never do I leave Shinjukuuu!  

My daily routine was a walk through Shinjuku Station that I stuck to every day until the cold of late November, when my jacketless arms convinced me to stop it. 

Let’s switch up the narrative again for this one…

I stick my earphones in each ear. And hit play on my playlist. Brothers in Arms begins. I walk to the nearest entrance of Shinjuku Station. And begin the walk. 

It’s almost a religious experience. The flow of human traffic rages in all directions. 

My body navigates the streams and occasional surprises.

I’m in my own world of thought, the station just a real high quality virtual reality decoration. 

I could be asleep, the air feels different. Do dreams have air, is that air different, dream air? 

I’m careful not to get lost again, but I rarely don’t get a little bit lost down here. 

I suspect I’ve made a wrong turn that will take me far away from where I want to exit and correct the mistake within a minute of making it. 

Alienation. I feel like I’m the human embodiment of the word. 

I push my hands deeper into my pockets for some comfort. I feel both sad and happy. Not a mix of each. Sad. Happy. I feel both separately and at the same time. 

A policeman, this time a smiling, fatherly looking policeman gestures to me and asks to see my passport. I refuse to take out my earphones for the petty annoyance of state authority. I flash him my passport and continue on without breaking my stride. The interaction is quick and I feel less creeped out than during previous encounters. 

The song comes to an end. My playlist continues, another classic fills my ears. I’ll get through another three songs before I make it to my exit.

I escape the tubes below, a wild wind is blowing, tree’s smash around kicking and screaming like spoiled children denied candy. I reach into my pocket for my box of Luckies, it takes three strikes to light the cigarette. Craving satisfied I walk the area for no real reason, I’ve seen it all many times before, I’m not looking for anything new. 

I turn back around, smoke another cigarette in the cold Tokyo wind before re-entering the strange underground game •

I only did two other things after I found my Tokyo home. I visited the free viewing area at the top of the Metropolitan Government Building and paid ¥200 to walk around Shinjuku Gyoen and lay on the grass. 

I made a really interesting short film about the current season in the Japanese garden, “I love Fall!” I psychospat into the camera, “Everything’s dying!” ………. 

Besides those two novel outings it was just walks around Shinjuku and all the games underground in the station. And my net room, konbini food, cigarettes on the fire escape. 

I would plan to do something else like a walk to Shibuya or an afternoon in Akihabara and then put it off for another day. 

It was no use, I was running out of days. 

One extraroom activity I couldn’t avoid was buying a jacket. It was getting colder and colder outside and I needed something warm to wear, most of my limited wardrobe was taken up by shorts and thin shirts. 

Buying a jacket became a big thing, each day I repeated the mantra, ‘I’ll buy a jacket tomorrow and then go out and see more of Tokyo.’ 

By the time that day came it was nearing the time to leave. I still needed that jacket though. 

I was anxious and procrastinating. I bought a few cans of Strong Zero at 7-Eleven, cracked one open and finished it off, drinking it down slowly to take up some more time, more time to give me an excuse to not step outside. I didn’t want to go out there again. 

Into that fucking freeze. 

No. Fucking no. 

The cold of the air and the cold of the nameless Tokyo crowds. 

Fucking no. 

But I needed a jacket or a hoodie or something. So, pissed and angry and annoyed I went back out into that fucking freeze. 

After some searching I entered a store off one of the many long streets in Shinjuku. 

Inside people grabbed at hoodies hanging overhead, women argued with their husbands and kids ran around as others played games on the floor. It looked more like a knockoff market in a third world country. 

I scanned the walls of clothing and trusted my gut to not waste my time, I wasn’t going to find anything in that mess. I decided to head for a department store I had walked past earlier. 

I got grabbed by a sharp looking salesman in one of the more expensive looking stores. I tried on jacket after jacket, they fit me well but I wasn’t going to spend another stupid amount on a jacket knowing I would probably leave it somewhere in a month or two. 

I didn’t like his hair or his seriousness either so I walked out and found a bald person with a friendlier face and cheaper jackets. I left with a black hoodie and went straight back to my lovely hole. 

The next day would be the last day of my three month visa-free status and I still hadn’t decided where I would be going. I needed a new country. 

I cleared out the garbage in my room which now took up a good third of the living space and left for a night in a hotel. After weeks of sleeping on the floor in the extremely cramped room I needed the comforts of a hotel to get myself ready to fly. 

The next morning I booked my ticket, taking a punt on a little island just south of Japan and headed to the airport.