A few months back now (notice how I've decided to not bother with an apology about the lack of recent posts?) the Mapledurwell clan were visiting and we went on a little jolly to Nagasaki. We had decided that dinner was probably a good idea, but as with any city you're unfamiliar with we had no idea where to even start looking. We located the entertainment/food district and were still wandering around, hoping that a restaurant would magically appear from nowhere right there in front of us on the sidewalk. Jon decided to ask a random guy working in one of the many pachinko parlours. He clearly had no idea what we were talking about, and the longer i watched him and Jon talking the younger I realised he probably was. By the time we left I concluded he was probably no more than 16. In the midst of this confusion, a [very] drunk salaryman emerged and with good (though inebriated) English he told us that he knew a great restaurant and that we should follow him. I could sense three reactions to this:
1/Relief - from the child working in the pachinko place
2/Interest mixed with slight apprehension - me and Jon, slightly familiar with this kind of harmless drunkenness, but nevertheless a little unsure of where we were going, especially as the prostitutes down this street all seemed to know this guy...
3/Suspicion - the Clan. Who the hell is this guy and where the hell is he taking us?
Of course, we needn't have worried, Drunken Salaryman personally escorted us to an amazing restaurant that we would never have found in a million years, spoke to the waitress, sorted us out with a table, bid us adieu and stumbled off into the night.
If that had been London, he'd have walked off with all our valuables and we'd all probably be indentured somewhere in North Korea by now. Trust is fun.
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