Today I was affectionately known as 172. Just another number among the hundreds of other poor bastards unfortunate enough to have to spend the morning at the Tokyo Immigration Office. It was a pretty weird experience actually, a load of foreigners all lined up together, herded onto a bus and shipped off to a big government building. Not quite a concentration camp vibe, but not too far off either. Anyone who knows me well knows how much I hate queues, so when I was handed a ticket that said 172 and the next person to be called was 27 I near just jumped out the window.
Upside to this bureaucratic mess was the chance to very quickly explore the shady alleyways opposite Shinagawa Station. I reckon this would be well fun at night, but even during the day there’s a really cool feel to the place. I hit it during the lunch-time rush so there were lots of businessmen running about – however judging from how busy the restaurants were, some of the workers looked like they might have as long a wait as I did.