Sasebo Burger was delicious, better than most chain burgers I’ve tasted. While the goal was to check out a few more bars, it didn’t pan out that way. Everyplace we kept going to was closed, most likely because it was Sunday night. We found an open sports bar that serves fried chicken. We ordered another round of chuhai’s and watched some rugby. We then ventured to another closed bar, and another, and another. Things began to look bleak until we saw some multi-colored lights coming from a dark alley. We said what-the-hell and made our way in. It was a tiny drinking establishment, no bigger than a kid’s bedroom. There were a couple of guys sitting at the bar, the bartender and karaoke machine. I had been duped into a Japanese karaoke bar (or a place that just happened to have one). After another round of chuhai’s, we commenced singing our best Garth Brooks, Don McClean and Lynyrd Skynyrd. The combined powers of our mustaches brought the house down, people began to pour in from the streets to listen to our sweet voices. After a few songs and some booze, we said our goodbyes and went on our way. We stopped at one more joint then decided it was time to call it quits. It had been a good adventure with Rusty. I recommend using him as a tour guide if you ever make it to the country. He knows all the hole in the wall, dirty local spots.