While resting at home and drinking alcohol, I was also practicing guitar. Santana, Larry Carlton from the Fourplay era, and others as usual. There was a casino bar near my house where they held live performances. I had gone to see it once during my guiding days, and the audience was packed. I had some pork there, and the sauce was incredibly delicious.

Remembering this, when I went there for a beer one day, the staff told me they have a Blues Jam Session on Mondays. Then I asked what that was, they said it's a session where anyone can join in to play. At that time, I had just received twenty thousands dollars in insurance money from the traffic accident.

So, armed with my guitar, I went to the casino bar on a Monday night, and sure enough, it was crowded. I asked the staff who I should talk to about joining, they pointed out a big white guy there. His name was Al, a guitarist who also taught at a music school. When I told him I wanted to play, he said he understood and to come to him whenever I wanted to play. Then, when I said I wanted to play next, he brought me up on stage.

I was confident because I had been copying guitarists like Hirokuni Korekata, Santana, and Pink Floyd's Dave Gilmour, all based on blues. But in the midst of real American musicians, I realized I couldn't compete.

So, I practiced the guitar at home while drinking wine like it was juice. I also learned that this thing called a Blues Jam Session was held in other casino bars, so I went to those too.

I even got to do some impromptu performances with a band. It was a performance at the House of Blues restaurant-bar in the Mandalay Bay Hotel. The leader was a man named Watson, a black guy and a former DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) agent. For this occasion, I didn't drink on stage. I have also had the opportunity to perform alongside a prominent blues musician named Willie J Laws.

For three months, I gradually gained unexpected popularity with these jam sessions. And I thought of writing an account of my stay in America and stuck my nose into various places. There was even an incident where I was forcibly kissed by the daughter of a Mafia member. One night while drinking with Watson at a bar, he said, "You came to America for something like this, didn't you?" and struck a pose with binoculars, indicating spying. I was also smoking marijuana, and with the help of alcohol, I played along, saying, "Yes, that's right." He said he knew from the start. This incident stayed with me.

For meals, I searched for cheap ingredients at the supermarket and ended up making chicken rice soup with carrots, potatoes, celery, and chicken, adding rice to them. I also played and drank with the people I got to know, and went to massage parlors, living a playboy-like life.

A month before my visa expired, I talked to Yoshimoto in Boston. He said to me, "Aren't you just an alcoholic! Go back home immediately!" My parents had moved to an apartment, so I was able to have a cat. However, the cat really hated being put in a box or a small cage. So, I looked for someone at the casino bar who could take care of the cat.

Some people turned me down, but Donnie, a deceased Indian guitarist, and his wife Joyce agreed to take care of him. They were truly my benefactors. A farewell party was held by Takahashi, Kelly, Julia, Jack, and the people I had become friends with at the jam sessions. Takahashi told me to come visit again.

And so, it was time to return home. On the plane, I was scolded by the cabin attendant for taking out alcohol from the hatch without permission and for smoking in the bathroom. The male CA, with a beet-red face, said, "Should I have you dropped off in Hawaii?" and contacted the captain. It would cost tens of millions of yen for the plane's delay fees and such. I shuddered at the thought of accumulating such debt. Seeing me so nervous, he told me to sit down and stay put, and I obediently complied. However, I had already decided to quit drinking and go to the gym to lead a healthier life once I returned home.