king houses) of Shibuya and Roppongi with my old friends from high school.
             On one particularly hot and muggy Friday night, four of my friends and I went out to celebrate our imminent return to university. We decided that, since all of our pockets were somewhat fat by our standards (we had all worked the whole summer), we would spend our evening at one of the "Westernized" strip clubs in Roppongi. (I use the term "Westernized" to describe strip clubs whose cliental are solely made up of expatriate business men who can afford to pay exorbitant prices). After about four hours of wasting hard earned money helping to sustain a market which is notorious for exploiting female foreign workers (which is why I never go to strip clubs anymore), we decided to call it a night. Two of my friends live in the Meguro area, and they decided to share a cab home. Nathan and I decided to walk home together because we both lived in Nishi-Azabu, about a fifteen-minute walk from the club in Roppongi.
             Nathan, like myself, is half Caucasian and half Japanese. (However, I am half Japanese-American, or more properly Okinawan-American). In any case, we are both "Double" and noticeably stand out among peoples of a more pure Asian ancestry. As we went our separate ways and said our "good-byes," I noticed a policeman behind us on a bicycle. He appeared to be watching us, but I did not give it a second thought because policemen patrolling the streets on bicycles are a common sight in the Tokyo area.
             Nathan and I finished saying our "goodbyes" and I headed down a quiet back street, which leads to my apartment. A faint noise caused me to turn my head, and to my surprise the policeman had turned off onto the same street I was now on. Thinking this quite odd, I stopped, and he approached me. Now, my Japanese is not very good, but I could decipher that "there had been a crime committed and could I answer a few...