IN TOKYO
APART from the two fortyish women in our group, the rest of the customers were all men, young and old and in various shapes and sizes.
It was Providence that brought me to this "penthouse" bar one recent Sunday night.
A couple of guys – friends of friends – had joined us at the tail-end of a late dinner in Roppongi. After dinner, one of the guys suggested that we all head for "Ni-chome" for a drink.
When the name "Ni-chome" is mentioned in Tokyo among some circles, it can only mean one place – the small enclave on the fringe of the boisterous Shinjuku district that has long been a haven for the gay community, and also increasingly so for straight people looking for some good, clean fun.
"I know just the right place," our self-styled guide said. "It's quiet and the guy who runs it is an ardent movie fan."
He was true to his words.
The bar, perched on the top floor of a nondescript apartment building tucked away in a narrow street, was dimly lit, but not overly so.
The air inside smelt clean as smoking is only permitted on the patio. Some discreetly placed images and literature are the only tell-tale signs that we were in the heart of Ni-chome. Otherwise, the bar could not have been more inviting.
At such establishments, it is perhaps always best to tag along with someone who is a regular as the reception is bound to be better.
Mr Kishida, the boss behind the counter, greeted us as if we were old friends.
Sometime during the night, he told us he had previously worked in the film industry and still watches over 250 movies a year.
This is the guy to ask, I thought to myself, if ever I wanted to do an inside piece on the Japanese film business and its denizens.
Two hours, lots of good conversation and a few drinks later, we were back at ground level, looking for taxis.
A long line of young men were waiting patiently at the entrance to a subterranean café across the road.
"They have very good live performances there," our self-styled guide offered after checking out the queue. "Unfortunately, it looks pretty crowded tonight."
By day, Ni-chome is almost like every other entertainment quarter in Tokyo. By night, however, the place takes on an entirely different character.
About 20 years ago, it had a reputation for being rather dangerous.
"In those days, I didn't dare to walk through Ni-chome on my own," a Japanese friend told me afterwards. "Now, it's so different."
In Ni-chome, besides the usual variety, there are also bars and eateries catering to all manner of sexual tastes and proclivities. Stumble into one that is not quite to one's liking – perhaps gender-wise or age-wise – and it is best to make a quick but polite exit.
Some places, I hear, are as tiny as a bedroom, all the better, I suppose, for the customers to get acquainted with each other!
"Homosexuality has long been a feature of Japanese society," my friend explained. "I won't say that gays suffer no discrimination in Japan, but we Japanese are mostly pretty understanding."
But don't expect to find only men in Ni-chome. In recent years, the place has become a favourite with many straight women as well.
At Ni-chome, both men and women can always find a sympathetic ear from the bartenders who, as in the case of our movie buff Kishida, are generally very good conversationalists as well.
"I enjoy going to Ni-chome several times a year, but not every night," said my friend. "But I'm straight, of course," he added for good measure.
But it is not hard to understand why some people would enjoy being in Ni-chome every night.
For them, the district is an oasis where one can be pretty sure that the people sharing the same space as oneself either have similar interests or harbour no prejudices.
I wonder when Providence will bring me back there again. Maybe next time, I should check it out with my friend.