last dance

"You're in one of the two best clubs in Tokyo on the best night of the month," says Dan, a Japanese-American working in Tokyo. "The other is in the sticks. Good choice." The rest of his intro was drowned out by the brain-numbing sound system and the opaque, laser-partitioned air on the dance floor.

It's 3 AM at Womb, a hotspot in Shibuya, and the party is just starting to pick up. Dan navigates effortlessly through a crowd of regulars, alternating between greetings in Japanese and English while introducing me as a visitor from Texas in the US on his last night in Tokyo. Among the folks I met were Kevin, another American expat who works biz dev for a paint company; Aya, a girl who I could only recognize by her slim profile and sound of her voice in my ear; Takashi, a friendly Japanese kid who dreams of someday visiting Texas; and Hitomi, an alluring doe-eyed girl who pulled me across the floor while barely being able to comprehend anything I was saying.

Language barrier aside, there's one stark difference between that club and most of the ones I've been to in the US: If you can project your voice farther than the required six inches to overcome the pulsing beat from the dance floor, you can talk to just about anyone in the room.

The kids don't want to flaunt their status, their looks, or their cash -- qualities that are in no short supply here. They just want to dance. I could get used to this.

I'm back in the states today though, and will be dealing with various issues in order. As you can imagine, I'm pretty beat. Thanks for sticking with us.