Ryokan Revelry

© David Greenfield

…. a mysterious knock at my door later that night ….. Who could it be, and why was someone there in the shadows? That was the scenario at the close of my previous blog installment. Here’s how it played out.

With breathing temporarily on hold, I cracked the door open in measured increments staring straight ahead at all times. What, there was no one there! Actually not true, I only had to cast my gaze downward. Rather than facing the hulking sinister silhouette I envisioned, it was thankfully only the petite ryokan hostess, hardly an imposing figure at four feet something tall. She arrived repeating her one word message – geisha, geisha accompanied by a waving hand motion beckoning - follow me. Despite her zero command of English, meaning further explanation was not a possibility, in a flash I put two and two together. Here’s the theory: When first welcomed to the ryokan, my wife and I passed through a comfortable communal sitting room replete with tea and goodies. Aha, that’s it … a geisha musical performance was being offered to guests that night! It seemed quite plausible as we followed along towards the main entrance. Wait! Why is she now turning sharply to lead us up a darkened narrow flight of stairs? What now?

Our destination: a suite with private party already well in session. The revelers, none other than Otaro and my other hot pool friends, were lolling around on cushions, a table laden with assorted finger foods, bottles of Asahi beer, and sake was set before them. Two animated geishas were attentive to their every want. A third strummed on a shamisen, something akin to a distant guitar relative. Turns out the boys were enjoying a weekend company perk provided by the Boss, a smiling likable older gent who would not allow my glass of Asahi to remain only partially full.

We were invited as honored guests. Otaro picked up our hot pool ‘conversation’ where previously left off. With each mention of Boston, Uehara, Red Sox, or Tazawa, another round of sake was enthusiastically poured. As the strumming droned on and the geishas flitted about and the laughter and good cheer intensified, my wife and I sensed it was time to signal ‘nine innings, game over’, and gracefully work our way to the exit. Amid the raucous revelry, somehow we managed to slip out; everyone else partied on.

Looking back now to relive and relish that day, it seemed reminiscent of a favorite old Twilight Zone episode, certainly an encounter to remember. For sure, Otaro, the boys and geishas played ‘the game’ well into extra innings that night. I’m not sure how it all ended, or what any of them may have remembered the morning after.

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Seventh inning stretch - Otaro, geishas, Carol and me