Those first couple excursions into Yokohama or Tokyo with my new friends were in retrospect almost cute, considering how clueless we were, and how we had no idea where to go, what to do, or what to say. But, it just didn't matter. Every night out was fun—for me, anyway—because every night out was totally new, unpredictable, and completely unlike the standard night out I'd have in the U.S.

Spoiler alert—this was kind of exactly what I'd been wanting, what I'd been searching for.

The realization would hit me multiple times per day—that I was on the other side of the world, in such a fascinating place, and there on my own accord. No matter what else happened, it felt like I'd already won something. Of course, I was only there because the Navy had sent me, which meant I had some intense duty ahead of me, duty that would be tough, even arduous—but rewarding also. But actually, those words were each too small to describe it—it was life-altering, in retrospect. Indeed, I could write an entire book about that too, and I might—but it is not the subject of this one. For this one, I'm going to steer clear of duty, and focus instead on my off-duty time. Anytime I was off-duty that generally meant I was off-base and in Japan. Why not take advantage of such an opportunity?

Most of those initial off-base excursions began with a very particular opening ceremony that consisted of my new friends and I standing dumbfounded at the train station, looking at maps of train and subway lines, each of us stating with wildly varying degrees of confidence which way we think we should go.

Those train maps are incredibly intricate and vast, seemingly never-ending, and just glancing at one brings to me a sense of wonder. Knowing you could pick a station at random (sometimes I did), go there, and find something new and interesting—maybe it would be a new park or temple I'd never seen before, fit sleekly into the urban area around it. If not that, then it would surely be a new shop, bar, restaurant, or izakaya—and each one of these would be as unique as its master.

It really is one of my favorite things, both then and now, to go to an izakaya—where the meal you eat is a long one, and accompanied with lots of drinking, and no one menu of any particular izakaya is exactly like any other. I love this. Also, I'm fairly certain that it's considered impolite to go to an izakaya and not order beer as your beverage. I love this, too.

And, it's okay, really, go ahead and drink—you don't need to drive anywhere. Everywhere you look, a train is almost always in sight, it's coming, rushing toward you with a refreshing blast of air as it screeches to a halt—and it goes exactly where you need it to. So, go ahead, and have another one. Everyone else is.

Now, I do need to be careful here, because regardless of how much time I've spent in Japan, when I talk about it, I still tend to be wrong somehow. This is a fascinating thing about Japan. No matter how much I learn about it, I'm still often wrong. If you've lived there, and have any sort of clue, then you probably know what I'm talking about. If you think you've got it all figured out, then you're probably deceiving yourself. Even Japanese people have trouble explaining some of the things that go on over there, so that really stacks the odds against foreigners figuring things out.

This is why I generally try to avoid any declarative statements about Japan—because I'm probably wrong somehow.

Just smile in Japan, and take another sip from your beer. That usually works well in most situations. Be cool, and be respectful. Try to reach out, and try to make a new friend.

Don't be conceited. Don't be arrogant. Don't be an ass.

Politeness and selflessness are much admired qualities in Japan. So that is the way to try to be, if you really want to make friends—lasting ones, anyway. If you're arrogant and rude, then you might secretly be the most hated guy in the room—and you won't even know it. The jokes on you, man.

There's about a 37% chance I'm wrong about all of this, by the way.

Okay, so I did get a car when I was in Japan. But it was just so I could get around the Navy base, which was fairly spread out. Not surprisingly, the one little piece of America in this country is what required me to have a car.

I love this too, though. I need to drive every now and then, or else I don't feel right. Driving scratches some kind of itch I have.

When talking about Japan, understand that I'm never trying to put down America. I merely like to compare the two, and enjoy both for what they are, or what they do well. So while I speak glowingly of Japan, remember that I also love road trips and wide open space, hot wings and foot-longs, microbrews and more microbrews, power plays and 4th downs, and so on. I love all that stuff, too. I need both countries in my life. I'm American and a gaijin.

Gaijin means foreigner. That is about as close to a declarative statement as I'll get.

I'm going off on wild tangents here, so I'll try to bring this in.

By this point, I'd been in Japan for a few weeks. I'd started work, I'd bought a car, and I was living on base as I was searching for an apartment.

On the weekends we ventured out into town, usually to Yokohama or Tokyo.

Most people stationed in Japan have the same story as mine—to this point. Because here is where we start branching off, depending on where we chose to live, what our interests were, and also how old we were.

For example, if you were 25 or under, then many of your off-base excursions required you to go straight to Roppongi, that part of Tokyo popular with foreigners and well-known for its bars and clubs that go all night. So many guys were dead-set on this place, that that was the place you had to go, to have fun, to meet girls, and so on. It was like there was no other alternative.

I didn't quite understand this. The greater Tokyo-Yokohama metropolitan area by itself has some 30 million people. To me, that means there's probably more than just one place to go.

However, at this time I was 25 exactly, so by my age that meant I was contractually obligated to make the requisite trips to Roppongi.

These trips required a commitment—you didn't have an early or a quiet night in Roppongi. The one knock on the trains in Japan are the early closing times, generally between 12-1 a.m., which means if you were going to make the trip to Roppongi, you would be there all night and come home of the 5-6 a.m. train. Or, perhaps even later, say 10-11 a.m., depending on what kind of rock star you felt like being the previous night. Needless to say, each and every trip to Roppongi spawned classic stories, be they wildly dramatic, utterly comedic—or sometimes both in the same night. These Roppongi nights usually began at a shot bar, if that is any indication as to how these nights generally went.

Coming home on that morning train, when the encroaching daylight, and then the bright sun high in the sky, terrorized your senses, made you feel like a vampire, and so many folks didn't just nod off on the train, but crashed altogether, and they woke up in various parts of Tokyo, or far down Miura peninsula, having well overshot their stop of transfer station. There's nothing quite like the feeling of opening your eyes to an empty train, in some random part of Japan, and having no idea where you are. There's also nothing quite like the feeling of waking up on the Yamanote line in Tokyo, thinking initially how lucky you are that you woke up right close to your stop. But, then you remembered that the Yamanote line circles around Tokyo, and that a couple hours are unaccounted for—because you'd done a couple laps around one of the biggest cities in the world while sleeping.

People are too polite to stare, though. Anyway, they're usually sleeping, too. Those early morning trains generally are a hilarious mix of all-night partiers trying to get home, and well-dressed businesspeople on their way to work. The only constant is that everyone is nodding off to various degrees.

In that way, we were all homogenous.

These trips would just murder your weekend, though. You really had to become a vampire in order to do them often.

Yokohama was closer than Tokyo. It had a great music scene, too. That's where I went, to have fun, and also to live.