Sushi Beatdown

We’ve had a parade of house guests here in Tokyo over the past few weeks. This has meant many sushi meals. Twist my arm, dontcha know.

Last week, while eating one of said meals, I was amusing the Japanese folks at the counter with my atrocious Japanese while our guest, Jeremy Pelofsky , was amazing them by scarfing down all sorts of sushi that Jewish white boys from Missouri are not supposed to enjoy.

So, there we are, happily eating. I had just ordered some engawa (the edge of the flounder) and uni when the guy to the right whacked me, hard, on my right shoulder. Not a light tap. Not even a playful smack. A hard, closed fisted punch.

I turned to find a round- and red-faced Japanese guy, eating sushi with his son. In a mixture of Japanese and English, he asked me if I knew what engawa is. I explained to him that, yes, I did know what it was. He then wanted to know why I ordered engawa. I told him I thought it was tasty. He then explained that it was a fish for young men like me, not for old men like him, supposedly due to the fact that it is oily (which it’s not — he was in full English mode at this point, so maybe it was a brainfart).

Anyway, after this little exchange, I figured we were all sorted. But, 5 minutes later — THWACK. He punches me again. This time wanting to know where I am from.

This happened two or three more times before they finally finished eating and left. Lucky thing, too. I don’t know if my shoulder could have taken much more of that.

Jeremy performing “Feelings” at the karaoke box