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About Osaka

So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

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So, I head back to the streets, and it’s getting dark. I’m wandering around, and I stumble upon this little izakaya. The vibe is perfect. I grab a seat, and the owner’s like, “You gotta try the yakitori.” I’m like, “You had me at chicken on a stick.”

Tokyo-Izu tour offers helicopter travel for cherry blossom viewing