Okay, looking on the bright side, I did have a much better feel for the tavern's clientele. Take those two, for instance. Over in a darkened corner was an overweight, middle-aged man wearing a thick toupee . .. oops, sorry, I guess the socially acceptable term is "alternative hair," isn't it? He was making a long, drawn-out—and probably pointless—attempt to hit on a bored-looking biff who I reckoned sported a pair of "alternative breasts." And over there were two kids, obviously underage but trying to look mature, while they almost avoided staring at the dancer giving herself a gynecological exam on the stage. And there, nearer the door, was an older native woman—bird-thin, fragile-looking in the same way as Tokudaiji—ignoring the drink on the table in front of her as she stared off into space. (Well, from this angle, it looked as if she were staring right into the camera lens, as a matter of fact. Coincidence, of course, but still creepy.)