I tried to find a menu, but the little tart behind the counter immediately beckoned for me to follow her through a dark passageway into the back. I was like, "Aw, yeah!"
The woman knocked on a door. My mind, utterly blank. Other parts of me, poised at the ready. The only thing I was missing was a beer in my hand.
And then I had one. Inside the back room, the last thing I expected: a party paradise. The handwritten sign on the wall read "EVEYTHING FREE TODAY", and a topless waitress had shoved a drink into my hand. Dozens of people, too. Packed in tight, and all compiling massive lists of the moves they wanted. Handing their lists one of dozens of incredibly efficient women who disappeared briefly with them into the back and then returned, smoking cigarettes.
So the dingy exterior, of course, was just a cover. And I was amazed. Awestruck.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe because it was so surreal. Like being in a dream... and it always seems to help to talk out loud about dreams so everybody can be jealous of what a lucky bastard you are.
Or maybe it's because I feel... well, I guess I feel like, in a way, you're all being invited to a mysterious back room, too.
Those coordinates... and now the times that go with them... they're beckoning to some of you, aren't they?
So many emails I received this week said the same thing: I love your site; Dude, I know you work for Bungie; Hey, can you send me some free beer; I don't think the topical cream is working.
I don't know what I would do if I weren't in Sapporo, if I were closer to one of the sites. I'd like to think that I would join you, that I would meet this thing head on. But who am I kidding? I'd just get drunk and throw up on you anyway.
You guys are the ones on the frontlines. So it's your call. Do you want to be there when the kegs get tapped?
I'll be heading back to the dingy brothel, and won't really be giving a rip what you're doing.
P.S. Thanks for nothing, you freeloading bitches.