An excerpt from my weekly series on Medium. Click the link below to read the rest of the story.
A row of severely battered bar stools housed a row of equally battered looking Japanese businessmen alternately sucking on their cigarettes and sucking down piss colored beer. I took my place at the last stool and put in an order with the scowling cook behind the counter. Even though I been coming to this place weekly for over a year I was still greeted with the same enthusiasm I’m sure the chef reserved for cockroaches, lepers, and health code inspectors. But the money I spent here probably at least paid for the cigarettes he smoked furiously behind the counter when he wasn’t cooking or taking orders. As I sat waiting for my order I thought about the school I taught at, a massive 800 student Junior High School in downtown Sendai.