Marco-san and Miss Japan
I'm not sure what Marco's dream girl looks like, but if I had to take a guess based on the type of mountain terrain he's attracted to, the term stacked might fit. She would be round and soft in all the right places, with curves straight out of a rap video. Knowing this about my friend Marco, I was not surprised when he asked if I would like to join him on a trip to Hokkaido to perv on some perfect pillows. I have to admit, it sounded like my kind of mission. The surf at home wasn't looking so hot, and I was badly in need of a paycheck, so I picked up a pair of chopsticks and started practicing. I had a feeling Miss Japan might not be the type of lady to give it up on the first date, and that if Marco was going to have his way with her, he was going to need a good wingman.
The island of Hokkaido is halfway around the world from both Seattle and Munich, which meant plenty of time for Marco to practice Japanese pick-up lines on the flight. Our crew met up in the city of Sapporo. Marco had decided to bring additional lady killers along to help with his cause. Lukas, his long time riding buddy and Alex, an elite member of the shred-paparazzi. Anyone who has watched Entourage realizes that strength in numbers can dramatically increase ones chances of hooking up. Marco chose his team very wisely, not only was he the most famous, but also the most Bieber-esque band member. I must say, I was very impressed with his moves so far, but we were still in the city, and he had many mountains to climb.
Leaving the traffic and billboards behind, we finally caught a glimpse of Miss Japan au natural. Her raw beauty towered over the city's slutty skyscraper look. With clouds of snow draped across her top and tight trees covering her bottom, she appeared supremely sexy, even though she wasn't showing us much. Despite my advice to take things slow, Marco couldn't resist her classic features. He charged towards her and we followed at safe distance. Without saying more than a few words, he patted down one of her plump pillows, strapped in, and launched into her personal space. Miss Japan was not impressed. Apparently, she had never heard an Austrian accent like his, and she mistook his sweet compliments for some Japanese slang and slapped him, hard. Marco didn't know what hit him. He woke up at the base of a tree, snowboard snapped in two, blood dripping from his forehead. That night, after receiving stitches at the local hospital, Marco wanted to go to her immediately to apologize. Luckily, we were able to convince him to rest, giving her time to cool down since she seemed to be playing hard to get (and had some violent tendencies).
It's hard to say when her opinion changed, but after a few days without bloodshed, we all agreed that she seemed to be warming up to the idea of having us around. The sun shone on her peaks for a week straight and we basked in her unspoiled beauty. Sensing her change of heart, Marco turned on the charm, showering her with compliments and caressing her gentle slopes. In the end, his persistence paid off and she opened up, allowing access to areas of her backcountry that most men do not have the good fortune to gaze upon.
Saying goodbye was hard for all of us, partly because we knew other crews had arrived and were attempting to accomplish what we had with Miss Japan. Secretly, we were all in love with her, whispering that we would never forget her as we watched her diminish from an aircraft window.