Word: roppongi
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Dates: during 2001-2001
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...biggest draws, especially for Japanese women, are the real, live Americans. Amejo is Okinawan slang for girls who love Americans, but they can be found anywhere in Japan where Americans hang out, sipping beers in the bars around the Naval base at Yokosuka, dancing in clubs in Tokyo's Roppongi district. Ground Zero for the amejo and their subcultural peers, the kokujo, though, is Okinawa...
...Perignon at Roppongi's Kingyo. Head to Chianti at Iikura for an espresso chaser but end up on the roof of the adjacent building, pero-pero guri-guri with the Tokyo Tower in the back. Her screaming fills the air. Pull out moist wipes from the bag and clean...
...Even more serious allegations of police ineptitude have been raised by Kazuo Iizuka, the owner of Club Cadeau, another Roppongi hostess joint. Iizuka says that on a Saturday night in early October 1997 one of his employees, a young British hostess, came into his club seriously ill after going on a dohan with a man now believed to be Obara. She had been drugged and, she suspected, sexually assaulted. Iizuka says she was so pale and weak, he had an ambulance take her from his club to a doctor. Tests revealed her liver function was seriously depleted. Iizuka says...
...hospital, after murdering and cannibalizing his girlfriend, he became a pundit on television shows and was given his own newspaper column. Obara's arrest prompted a deluge of phone calls to the British embassy from Japanese who wanted to express their shame. But at the same time, hostesses in Roppongi report a rash of male customers introducing themselves as "Joji Obara." Amelia, one of the young women working at Lucie's old club, says a customer told her recently: "'I know a girl like you would never sleep with me. The only way I could get you would...
...Casablanca, Lucie's club, is no longer listed on the directory of the narrow, six-story building just off Roppongi's main drag. In an effort to erase their club's history, management has changed its name to Greengrass. Everything else is the same. Customers are still greeted when they enter the joint by a maître d' in an ill-fitting tuxedo. The lounge area is still dark. The black leather modular couches are still so mushy that customers and hostesses almost collapse into each other when they sit down. There are a dozen small tables, each just...