Buggirl's Increasingly Strange Tokyo Tales...

We got some table bitches in the hizzouse.

As soon as I rolled into Istanbul, Shinjuku I saw that it wasn’t full and that there were two Turkish women (probably my age) sitting front and center at the table closest to the small primary dance area. There was something about them that made me think “Oh, great, probably not the right ladies to be dancing for when I’ve packed what is my most retro/kitchy look…oh, well.” I figured there was nothing to be done about it and I have a super Turkishy set and some solid skills...so I wasn’t gonna sweat it.

They had a certain quality that made me worry and the Turkishness didn’t help. It’s not that Turkish women dislike me or anything…it was the fact that there’s this certain sense of entitlement vibe that some ex-pats get when they are at a place they feel is “theirs”…it can be Canadians at a Canadian bar with Canadian staff, or…my fellow Americans just about anywhere (because we find a lot of places to be ours)…and these women had it. This vibe sets in and all normal rules about behaviors in the adopted country are GONE! It’s not that these ex-pats revert to their country’s standards…they become louder, larger, more aggressive caricatures of their country’s stereotypes.

As soon as I came out and saw how they reacted to me in the first few seconds I knew…I could be the bestest dancer in the whole wide world in the most up to date costume…and they were not gonna be liking me.

They were talking loudly, shouting in Turkish at some of the staff, bringing out cell phones and shouting into them (which is beyond the pale restaurant behavior here in Japan) rolling eyes…and when they thought I was looking (or knew I was) making mocking gestures about me.

I could have pulled purebred puppies from my cleavage and given them as gifts and they would not have liked me.

Bitchy note: I assume they were around my age… I bet they disliked me in part because they thought I was some much younger girl-creature all flaunty and shit.

I danced for the people who were enjoying it (and the staff looked happy) and myself. Then, I packed up and went out for fun.

It reminded me of, nearly 5 years earlier, my first experience with a nasty front table, in that very restaurant.

http://parasitegirl.livejournal.com/136635.html

And that night it crushed me, crushed me hard. I felt like hell and had wanted to cry after my set that night. I took it personally (and, in retrospect, I know I wasn’t a good dancer and shouldn’t have been dancing there …and I probably knew it then…which didn’t help) and still remember how small it made me feel.

This time I knew it wasn’t about me or about my weaknesses as a dancer…this time I could see the other audience members and how they reacted (instead of seeing other audience members as only “not being them”) and could continue to dance. I’ve danced through audio failures, through stages that light up from below and illuminate my underwear through chiffon skirts, through pain, through asthma, through heartache...and found my music my muse when no one else is there for me…table bitches ain’t nothing.

They had their fun. I had mine

This is for those of you who might think there is anything glamorous about dancing in a restaurant.

( Istanbul )

I can say that last night was probably one of my best audiences thus far, and hands down my best audience outside of the 90% belly dancer bacchanals.

 

( About 4 pages on last night. Slow day. )

Last night at Istanbul could have gone better, but it also could have been horrible. As it was, Anaan thought I was just wonderful (she, her mother, and her boyfriend sat in the entranceway of the packed restaurant to see me) one of the regulars tipped me and this morning Anaan sent me  a text message about how I have now gone through a rite-of-passage in belly dance, the energy and joy-sucking bitch in the audience.
( Suck you! Succubus! )