"I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back,
I been everywhere, still I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all"
-- Jon "Bon" Jovi

head

It happened again. It had to. At the drop of a hat, by the seat of our pants, on a wing and a prayer, the intrepid Sakebomb crew bought cheap tickets to Japan, and two days later left LAX for the land of the rising sun. Preparing to leave, the most often asked question was, "Why?" Well, motherfucker, we didn't have a good reason to go to Japan. Business was considered as an excuse, and we did have our brand new business cards in hand. But business is what you make of it, and honestly, we didn't make much.

And it was certainly not for R&R; we packed as much action into 5 days as we could, leaving us physically broken, financially eviscerated, and emotionally spent. Rest came in sporadic lulls and relaxation usually took the form of erratic, drunken dancing in basements and alleyways. It was brutal. I can't speak for everyone on the trip, but I cried. Of course, I cried the tears of an unlikely drunk globetrotter laughing at himself and cursing the sky and soaking his pants with beer and taking shits standing up and rocking faces by the millions. I cried for fulfilling the Sakebomb code of honor: Shake what your momma gave ya. Come to think of it, those weren't tears at all, but trails of warm sake cleansing our smiling faces of urban grime and the wrinkles of sedentary existence. And I'll be glad to cry them again.

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