Was I in a Yakuza Hooker Bar???

alright, so I went to work out at the beach after sunset. It’s better that way, hardly any people and a bit eerie. That’s how I like it.

found myself in a divey, but not too divey part of town. The part where I can get really good pho during the daytime. The part that has those scarey places with the bars on the windows and the flickering massage sign in neon lights. Well, I walked past a place with blacked out windows and it said over 21. I figured it might be a club but if it was I could probably grab a beer for cheap since it was a week night.

Walked in. Saw some uptight Asian dudes in two piece suits. Walked past some booths that looked like what you’d see in a restaurant. Walked up to the bar. The bartender was wearing Daisy Dukes and a bikini top. Asked “What’s this place?”

She said, “Oh, just a nice place to have a drink.”

She handed me a warm towel and asked to wipe my hands.

Weird.

Seems like I’m in a Quentin Tarentino movie.

“Would ya like a drink?”

Fearing it might break the bank,

“Uh, what’ya got?”

She hands over a menu.

Bottles are $90 or more.

But single drinks are $4-$7…

I throw cash on the bar and ask for the cheapest one.

I’m worried this might be some weird scam, and I’m ready to walk out the door if things get weird.

She brings me a glass and ask if I want change.

“Keep it.”

She smiles.

She offers me “chips,”

They taste like Check Mix with spices.

I slam the drink and look around.

Old Asian dudes with girls who look young enough to be their daughters. Mandy Marcotte would not approve.

Nerdy guys who make Elliot Rodgers look like the “alpha” he thought he was with uncomfortable, attractive girls conversing with them.

Yeah, the girls definitely look like they dig the old guys over the nerdy guys. Maybe it cultural… or… …it’s dawning on me…

…the old dudes have money.

The two piece suits are giving me the evil eye…

I walk to the restrooms…

I see a bunch of broads playing with their phones…

One checks me out, sizes me up would be more accurate. She gives that look predatory animals give. She goes back to her phone, I ain’t worth the hunt…

I go back to the bar. The bartender asks if I want another drink.

“I’m good.”

“Howabout a water?”

“Okay.”

This is the part in horror movies where someone whispers “turn back, you can still make it out.”

The suits are still giving me the evil eye.

“Interesting place.” I state…

“Yeah, a very nice place to have a drink” she responds…

I want to ask, is this a hooker bar?

But even someone behind the curve on social graces such as myself knows not to…

I thank her for the drink and walk out the door.

I look the place up on yelp….

Apparently this is a “hostess bar.”

You pay womyn money to sit with you and, uh, talk…

The “filtered” reviews tell the fun tales…

Vice cops, Yakuza, girls without their greencards making more than surgeons…

oh, well, there are things I wasn’t meant to fully understand…

2 thoughts on “Was I in a Yakuza Hooker Bar???

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