I love Japanese love hotels. I love the idea that you can nip in with someone special -- or someone special for that afternoon -- and have at it for a few hours. Not only that, but have at it in what is quite possibly the most insanely done-up room you've ever seen?
If certain bureaucrats have their way, the boom may be lowered on love hotels. Jesus, people! Were you born in a vacuum? Your mom and dad screwed somewhere along the way ... maybe even in one of those gaudy places up on Dogenzawa hill.
Adam and I decided on a room that glowed under blacklight. The wallpaper was pastel and bedecked with stars. There was single-serving wrapped everything -- toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, soap, shampoo, and of course, condoms. There was a hair dryer. There was a huge shower. There was a deep, deep one-person (or two small Japanese people) tub. There were special bathroom slippers, as is Japanese custom.
The bed had a padded headboard and myriad switches, a few of which operated musical selections coming from the overhead speaker. The others operated the blacklight, headboard light with dimmer, and ceiling lights. The remote control operated the tv, which offered a rolling loop of Japanese porn selections. Konnichiwa!
We pretty much laughed throughout it all. How could you not?
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