Yamanote Train Party - Oct 28th

Back in the late 80's, there began a tradition among the foreigners of Tokyo. Each year, on the saturday preceding Halloween, they would start to gather at platform 13 in Shinjuku station around 8:00 at night, dressed in their best costumes, and then everyone boards the 9:07 train. Once they've crowded onto the 9th or 10th car, they would proceed to drink, party, and break pretty much all of the rules for train etiquette. This tradition continued for some years, until in 1995, there was an incident in Louisiana where a Japanese student on his way to a Halloween party got shot by a redneck who thought he was trespassing. This was a tragic event, and it received a lot of news coverage here in Japan.

At that year's Yamanote party, some retards got the bright idea to dress up like rednecks and run around with fake guns, pointing them at the regular Japanese commuters and yelling "freeze!" This was the last thing that poor Japanese kid heard before he was shot. These idiots had obviously pushed the envelope too far, and a few of the commuters had taken it upon themselves to beat the shit out of them. Their well-deserved ass-whooping led to a cancellation of the following year's ride. The party was disbanded indefinitely.

A couple years ago, the Yamanote party saw a revival, on a much more subdued level. One of my classmates told Hans and I about this event, and that anyone was welcome. Giving up on the idea of going to Ageha (as there was another group planning on going on Saturday night as well), I called up Hans and we met at baba around 8:30 and rode the Yamanote to Shinjuku. My host-mom had lent me a cheap red felt cape and bonnet, so I guess my costume was little red riding hood. Without leaving the station, we walked to the appointed platform, and started to see outlandish costumes through the crowd of Japanese commuters, including a guy who looked like powdered-toast man (he had a giant plush toast head). We met up with a few of Hans' friends who also knew about the party, and came dressed in middle-school uniforms. Already seeing the looks of confusion on the Japanese commuters and the platform attendants, I could tell this was going to be interesting...

When the 9:07 train rolled into sight, an enormous roar sprang from the crowd. As the normal passengers gratefully disembarked and waded through the crowd of costumed foreigners, we all jostled and shoved our way into the one and a half cars the crowd stood before. We would've tried to fit everyone into a single car, but I'm afraid that would have violated some laws of physics.

I can now say that I've been cured of any clausterphobia aroused by being in a manin densha; the train was so packed, it was practically impossible to move. Fully expecting to be asked to leave by the train officials by the third stop, I postponed opening my can of chuhai. Peppered throughout the crowd were ordinary Japanese commuters who had picked the wrong car to board, and got swept up in the crowd. To my surprise, they were delighted by the raucous group of gaijin. They wore an expression of "I don't know what's going on, but everyone sure looks happy!"

At each stop, the groups near the doors would dash out and move to another door, thoroughly mixing the crowd, and inadvertantly spilling the costumed partygoers into the surrounding train cars. While exhilarating, this also meant that some of the people who weren't quick enough on their feet would get left behind; it was like leaving a wounded man on the battlefield, so each time I looked out the window after the doors closed and saw a gaijin in a cape looking dejected, I gave them a military salute. Looking for a bit of respite, our group of friends recollected ourselves just outside the perimeter of the insanity, before diving back into the sea of freaks. Some of the commuters on the following train smiled curiously in the direction of the ruckus, while others were clearly disgusted by the ongoings in car #10. Finding a group of what looked like extras from the Hebrew Hammer, I finally opened my can and was able to partake in the accent-laden cries of "Kanpai!! Happy Halloween!" Hans had gotten ahold of Jessica, the girl who originally told us about the event, and she had apparently missed the train! We coaxed her into jumping on the Chuo line and intercepting us at Tokyo station. She should at least be able to enjoy half of the wild ride.

As we approached each major station, a chorus would ring out, chanting the station's name. As we curved back towards Shinjuku, the crowd got wilder; on top of smoking, drinking, and yelling, there were people now riding on the luggage racks above the seats, and 3/4 of the trip in, all of the flourescent lights on the train were spun so they would turn off. We were now riding in a caucophany of darkness. I had gotten separated from my group, and ended up at the far end of the party. I found Waldo (or as he's called here, "Wally"), at the end of the car, talking to a girl in a way better little red riding hood outfit. At the next stop (Yoyogi, maybe), I ran out of the car to see if I couldn't find a door near my friends. As I neared a random entrance to jump in, I saw a guy in a fairy costume, stripping and streaking down the platform. Thankfully, he was running away from me; I was just hoping that he wasn't going to try to get back on the train like that. With no time to lose, I slipped in through the sliding doors into the nearest car, and found that I had actually met back up with Hans and everyone, just in time for the final chant for Shinjuku.

As the train neared our final destination, the crowd got really wild, jumping and yelling. Compared to the craziness on the train, disembarking was relatively subdued. I took a few last photos for posterity, and we moved off the platform, our thirst for a good time not yet satiated. I removed the hood and cape, and returned it to my handy handbag. Before I knew it, we were walking through the streets of Shinjuku 2-chome, which is essentially Tokyo's Gay District. Oh boy.

So Hans and his two friends Mark and Jeff are apparently bi-sexual, and had been to 2-chome before. Anika, the girl they were with, couldn't fight the compulsion to ask if I am gay. She was delighted when I assured her that I wasn't, apparently because she constantly finds herself surrounded by men who are a bit too light on their feet. We walked to a place called Arty Farty's, which is one of the more accepting clubs in the area (ie; it is frequented by a wide demographic, straight guys and girls included). The only cover charge is a one-drink minimum. On our way to the bar, an asian guy approached Anika and I, as we were walking behind the three guys, joking about the way they walk, and frankly asked if we were together. Immediately sensing danger, my natural reaction was to protect the woman. I said "yes" in a robotic voice. The man was visibly disappointed, but without skipping a beat, asked me "so, you aren't gay?" Suddenly, I realized just where I was, and understood that it wasn't the girl he was after... I apologized and told him that I'm incurably straight. He sauntered back to his group and we ducked into the bar. Once inside, we grabbed some empty stools and watched the pulsating crowd boogie on the dance floor. Jeff had asserted earlier that he didn't intend to dance, but I could see that he was bubbling with regret. I told him he didn't need our permission to dance, and he skipped into the crowd. Eventually we all moved out onto the floor, and danced in a little group. I still had my messenger bag, which was acting as an ass-shield as I grooved to embarrassingly familiar beats.

Having long since lost Jeff, who had disappeared from the club completely, we stuffed our crap in a locker so as to not get in our way, and struck out to find our missing friend. It seems that this is a common occurance when hanging out with Jeff, so no one was surprised when we spotted him chatting up a group of people outside another club. Back together, we found a convenience store and shared a carton of umeshu. Sensing that the last train was fast approaching, we returned to Arty Farty's and retrieved our belongings. We all rode the subway out to Mitaka, where Jeff and Anika go to school (at International Christian University). We went to their "guest house," which is essentially a dormitory (which isn't that bad, actually, except for the overwhelming smell of public restroom wafting through the halls), and watched "The Devil Wears Prada," before passing out at around 2:30 am. I'm not entirely sure how we were going to make it to the 9:30 meeting time for the baseball game tomorrow.