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About Tokyo

Eh, what’s up, doc? So, findin’ a prostitute, huh? Man, it’s wild out there! I’m thinkin’, like, anybody can be a chef, right? Like in *Ratatouille*—ya don’t need a fancy hat! Same with this gig—anybody can cook up some company, if ya catch my drift. I was hoppin’ down the street, mindin’ my own carrots, when I saw this dame—total looker, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owned it. Made me happy, seein’ her hustle! Reminded me of Remy sneakin’ spices—sly, clever, ya know?

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As far as red light districts go, Tokyo’s Kabukicho near Shinjuku station is relativity tame. Unlike Amsterdam there are no pot houses (aka “coffee shops”), sex workers are not selling their .

Then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, heavy rain. I’m sprinting to the nearest shelter, which happens to be this tiny ramen shop on Kōen-dōri. I duck inside, soaked but kinda happy. Ramen fixes everything, right? I order a bowl, and it’s like a hug in a bowl.

Arthroscopic Removal of a Wire Fragment from the Posterior Septum of the Knee following Tension Band Wiring of a Patellar Fracture