check out my Hamnett's
Dinner on the top of Marounchi building was a welcome distraction from the usual rush to intoxicate on a friday night. And so the weekend began

Saturday, cleaned the flat, ran up the hill 15 times, and split for Yokohama, where the Japanese Oktoberfest was on. It felt like a small version of the real deal. The benches were out in the sun, the tents were heaving with hordes choking for Erdinger and sausage. Germany's has given two wonderful gifts to the world: The Mercedes SL, and beer. Shoot back to Roppongi, and the rugby's on, people who i've never met in months are spilling off onto the streets - the train from Yokohama to Tokyo could have been an ICE train from Munchen to London.

Sunday, chez Limozin for the homewarming party in Kagurazaka. Wine and cheese featured heavily in a diet that begun at 14:00. At that point, I didn't know the day would end at 05:00. Jerome has a fantastic house, and then he got very drunk and proceeded to mess it up. A good party, it ended around 8, which was far too early to go home on a weekend, so I met up with Eden in Roppongi. Full of beans and stories, as per ever,and drinking champagne. Yi turned up, we had another drink. Then ridiculously hot girl from work; that should be a model, but unfortunately is nowhere near arrogant enough; texted to say she was down at A971. What sort of person would I be if I declined that offer? Met Albert and Derek on the walk over, fresh back from Yokohama, and got to a heaving bar in Midtown. "We're going to a party in Roppongi Hills". Sure. Picked up some cheap booze in the kombini enroute, and Albert says "Nice Hamnett's" in reference to my shoes. How did you know? "Because I have the same pair. And so does JB". Jesus. As if it isn't bad enough that we both have the same T-shirts...

Turns out that we all can't get into the apartment in Ropps Hills, so I ditch the group and lurk around the guarded entrances, ducking past electric doors after drunks on their way home, all to to the 14th floor. Once there, I tried to blend in, with limited success. Accosted pretty early in my tracks by the propreitor of apartment, luckily someone managed to verify that indeed I was invited, and so I cracked open a can of beer, and gorged myself with the Mexican in the kitchen. Met the weathergirl, the jewelry sales girl, watched a lovers tiff unfold. Standing in an apartment that rented for upwards of $7k a month made me think. Is this success? Is wearing a fat diamond, and going giddy over Veuve Cliquot the way? To me, it's all about the company. I'd sooner spend the time sat on the corner of the road sipping chuhi with a crinkled T-shirt. But, I'm 30. I work for a large company. I am not poor. It's shunned upon to even consider the latter. 2am, and we spilled onto the streets in search of The Next. Salsa bar it was...and in the blur afterwards, Sunday ended.

Monday the public holiday. Met up with JB for a lunch curry, ate too much naan, and headed for the driving range. Learnt how to hold the club a different way. I gots to improve on the attendance - learning golf is going to be something that will keep me occupied in summer...just need to learn to swim as well.
- posted by Daniel @ Monday, October 08, 2007