Death of a Shot Bar
I remember when I first met you in March, before the cherry blossoms had begun to bloom. You lived so very close to my apartment; I passed you every day on the way to work, but it took me a while to muster up the courage to formally introduce myself. Actually, it was how your large-screen TV, which I could see clearly through your wide store-front windows, was used primarily to play old-school Famicon games that attracted me to you at first. Right away it was clear to me that you were no ordinary bar. But soon I came to realize your true treasure: a large cast of some of the friendliest, most generous characters I have ever had the pleasure to meet. They gave me the best welcome to Japan an English teacher could ask for.
There's Nori - farmer by day, bartender by night - who lost no time becoming a very close friend of mine, who taught me piles of napkins worth of Japanese lessons each night, and whose command of hilarious English slang is second to none. There's the former "Masta" Kame-san, who plays a mean game of Tetris and is never slow on the draw to come up with an excuse for another round on the house. And his gorgeous wife Tokka-san, who looks up from serving drinks and smiles and every man in the bar falls in love with her. And that's just the lovely people who worked for you. That's not even mentioning all the other wonderful friends we've known together; many more than I can count on all my fingers and toes put together.
Pousse, you've always known how to show me a good time. Thank you. No other bar can replace you now that your pink neon lights have been turned off for good. Sayonara, Pousse, and Kanpai!
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