What!? No chicken!?!?!

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Well, this story is embarrassing for me to tell, but I think I should share it.

Last night two friends and I went to a yakitori restaurant to get a bite to eat after a few drinks at the pub. (Yakitori is grilled chicken of various types and flavors on served on small wooden or bamboo skewers. It's a very popular food--and late-night, bar food-- here in Japan.)

My friend suggested we try a place just down the street, but mentioned that they did not like foreigners at this particular place, and had given him trouble before, due to the rowdy behavior of some mutual friends on a visit prior. I absorbed this information much as I was presently absorbing the whisky highball coursing through my bloodstream, made a mental note, and followed my buddy in. I didn't realize that I had just allowed my mind to become prejudiced. I should have held my friend's words in limbo.

Upon walking in, I saw that a young waiter had already approached this friend and was telling him there was no more yakitori. I found this extremely hard to believe, as it was only 10:30 on a Saturday night, and the place was full of customers. The little program my friend's words had implanted in me just outside, and which I had accepted without much thought, sprang into action in my brain. He was right! These guys are lying! They just don't want foreigners here! (There are some places in Japan that do not accept or serve foreigners.)

Pretty sure this is what we looked like to the owner of the chicken joint last night.

Disbelief.

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I told the young waiter he "must be lying" to us and asked him to please just state the real reason he was refusing us service. He insisted that the restaurant was fresh out of chicken. Soon, the owner and a woman who I assumed to be his wife approached. The owner had an amused smile on his face, which I took to be a mockery. We're out, he said kindly. The tension continued to escalate as now all of us--my friend, myself, and our Japanese friend who was with us--were convinced they were just trying to get us out of there.

Looking back now, though, they did say we could stay for drinks like everyone else. We hadn't believed that was the truth. We thought we were being targeted. Finally, after being surrounded by three staff members, and seeing the anger (which I assumed to be dislike of foreigners) in the face of the woman, I stood from my seat to leave and said "You just hate foreigners!" turned around, saying "Fuck you!" and went outside. My two friends would follow in kind.

The owner followed us out. My one friend seemed to be on the verge of getting physical. At some point I began to look around. I could sense something was off. Even in my drunken state, things about my friend's theory didn't add up. Indeed, looking back inside, nobody seemed to have any chicken on their plates all around the place. The owner said we could come back anytime. I separated my buddy from the owner and tried to keep him at bay. His emotions were taking over. We walked away.

Me thinking, "Damn I was an idiot last night."

The takeaway.

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As we hobbled away, and talked amongst ourselves about what had happened, I tried to put it together. There is no way a yakitori shop is out of yakitori at 10:30 on a Saturday night. The place is open until 1! I continued to think out loud. My one friend was still convinced they were racist jerks, as he said he had been told the same thing before, on a couple occasions, but with slightly different details. Maybe they have me confused with someone else, he pondered aloud.

It was driving me nuts. As we walked back past the place on our way to somewhere else, I asked my Japanese friend to go check it out again. "If people are eating chicken, now 20 minutes later, we will know they were lying." He walked by with his iPhone drawn, ready to shoot the incriminating scene of a restaurant full of happy racists with their plates overflowing with delicious, greasy, skewered chicken. The look on his face was funny. He turned to us. Nobody has any food, he said. My other buddy looked at the ground and let out a bit of a troubled sigh. I knew we had been too into our own narratives at that point, and the booze had made it easier to "feel right."

I may go back today to apologize. My wife also told me today that these yakitori places running out of yakitori is not that uncommon. Though this was largely an inconsequential happening, and not really a big deal, I feel like a fool. It has also got me thinking how easy it is for people to be turned against one another.

As a foreigner living here in Japan, I get stared at a lot. We often are treated differently because we are foreigners. Sometimes, the treatment is even patronizing, as if we are children. This shapes a narrative in the mind. An expectation. A prejudice. Literally, a pre-judgement. This can be very dangerous. Last night's fiasco was over chicken. This is the same essential reason people fight each other in wars though, too, and kill each other in race riots. I think it is very, very important to always keep a fresh, clean and critical mind, and not let blanket generalizations cloud our clear vision of specific individuals and situations. MISUNDERSTANDING, ASSUMPTIONS, and PRE-JUDICE. These can be very dangerous things.

Now, who wants to go get some yakitori? I'm hungry.

EDIT: I've just returned from the shop again today. I brought a small gift and the owner and staff were nothing but understanding. My son was with me, and was asking what we were doing, so I told him daddy was kind of stupid last night and made a mistake and needs to say sorry. It was a good chance for me to show him that we all make mistakes, and that we can seek understanding and set things right. A real life lesson in being human. They told us to come back anytime. :)

~KafkA

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Graham Smith is a Voluntaryist activist, creator, and peaceful parent residing in Niigata City, Japan. Graham runs the "Voluntary Japan" online initiative with a presence here on Steem, as well as Facebook and Twitter. (Hit me up so I can stop talking about myself in the third person!)