Ohaiyo Tokyo Pt 3 - The Ageha Pole Dance

Ageha, is what you would call a mega club. Not only is it the largest club in Japan, it is the furthest club in proximity to civilization. We had to walk so far from the train station, I thought that we were suppose to rent a camel to get there.

We got there only to realize that the club only starts operations at 11pm. It was 10.50pm and there were a grand total of 5 other people waiting outside to get it. Do you know what this actually means? If we band together, we won’t even qualify as a soccer team, but at least we can make a full squad for basketball, with reserves.

And this was supposed to be the top club in Tokyo. I made a silent prayer to God, hoping that the Japanese like to hide in bushes and trees until it is time to enter the clubs, only then will they spring out in the hundreds.

The club was impressive to say the least. Huge, nicely furnished and a lounge section that was serviced by tobacco promoters that had legs that ran on forever. There was also a pool, but it was so small, if it had a tap, it would have passed off as a basin. We knocked back 3 rounds of drinks and waited for the place to fill up.

There really wasn’t much else that I appreciated about the club. The music was tame, the crowd was hardly attractive and we had a hard time finding women that were hot enough for us to want to labour through a conversational barrier with.

The only highlight was a pole dance showcase that kept us from leaving the place early. Now, I’ve seen my fair share of pole dancing, more so than most regular men, so believe me when I say, I was blown.

I was expecting a corporeal performance of sorts. One that was to include the staple uniform principle of less is more. A lingerie catwalk, a risqué dance routine that would centre around a lot of grinding with the pole and butt shaking, lots of it.

I was right about the outfits for one; lingerie with killer heels, but when the lights dimmed and the music cued, I knew I was witnessing something magical, something even Chris Angel would be proud of. Something that was going to deconstruct the eroticism behind pole dancing and catapult it into the stratosphere of performing arts, like ballet, ballroom dancing and striptease lap dances.

These girls were working the pole with such grace, poise and technical maneuverability, that I might have dislocated a jaw from gawking. I don’t even know how to begin describing what they were doing because even when they twirled around on it, they actually reminded me of Chang Er flying to the moon - just with alot less clothes on.

And these girls were generally slim, save for one which looked like her childhood ambition growing up was to be a thug, and yet they were pulling off moves that you would wish you had when doing chin ups for IPPT. I don’t know how they did it, but they were practically rolling up and down the poles without hands and balancing their bodies perpendicular off the pole.

Did you say ‘What the Fuck?!”

That was exactly what I was saying at every 6 second interval. And if I understood Japanese better, I believe that was what the other people were saying as well, because there were a lot of whistling going on, so if you are trained to communicate with dolphins or dogs, you would know that those people were also saying,

“What the fuck!”

Now that truly is pole dancing. The next time you go to a Thai club and there is a chick on the podium, dancing with a pole, you can throw your shoe at her and tell her that isn’t pole dancing because Butterfly says real pole dancers don’t need hands to climb poles. If your dance is all about holding on to a pole while grinding against it, then that’s not pole dancing. That’s called ‘trying to balance’ – or maybe you have yeast infection and it’s itchy down there.

Do you even know how much abdominal strength it takes to balance themselves on the poles like they do? Their abs are so toned, not only can you wash clothes and crack chestnuts with it, they could have crash tested a Volvo against it and still come out smiling.

All that spectacle and awe and we didn’t even have it down on film or pictures because these Japanese have a very strict law about photography in clubs. I don’t know why, maybe they are afraid people might secretly tape them preparing a Jagerbomb and the world would know the secret to it. And it’s times like this, you wish you didn’t have an iPhone.

We left shortly after because we had an early flight to catch. Now the problem was getting back to the hotel. Of course, being so isolated on the fringes of the city area meant that the club had to counter this by offering free shuttle services to Shibuya station and from there it was a lot easier for us to get back.

When we got out, the shuttle bus was nowhere in sight and Poca suggested that we save the trouble and just grab a cab instead. This was her 5th time to Tokyo and I was just clocking in my 40th hour there, so it was wise to just heed her words.

When we got back to our place, which was about 10 mins away or the distance equivalent of 13km, the fare choked me. Our fare back had cost us 5000yen - $75 for those slow at counting. Yes, I heard you loud and clear, because that is exactly how I reacted.

“What the FUCK?!”

And if we thought this was bad, we had no idea what was going to happen in 5 hours time...