One recent sunny afternoon, I set off for a performance of "Tokyo/Olympic" by the city's Port B theater company.
Normally, I rush to a theater, deal with the ticket stuff and finally relax when I sink into an overstuffed red velour seat. But that day was a bit different.
First I had to find the "front desk" — which was no desk at all — on a street heaving with shoppers, most of whom were the kind of female oldies who can trample grown men without blinking an eye if they set their sights on a seat in the subway. (Yes, the meeting point was in no less than Tokyo's still-traditional Sugamo in Toshima Ward — and in Jizo Dori indeed, a shopping street famed as an old ladies' mecca.)
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