This is a great story. I have a similar story about the Yakuza from when I lived in Japan. Every town has a summer festival. In the town I lived in, it was 3 days, the whole town took off of work to party. And everyone gets super drunk. The main attraction is that the different neighborhoods would bring out mobile shrines and wander around the city carrying them. These shrines were like little buildings. It would take around 20 people to carry. And the best part is, when two shrines find each other, they battle. I mean 20 people on this side and 20 people on that side crashing two buildings together that they are carrying on their shoulders. Every year someone dies at this festival. So, fuck yeah! I was going to do it! And one day, I was talking to this Japanese girl I kinda knew, and she said her father was the leader of one of the neighborhoods. So, they were having a meeting one night to prepare at the neighborhood community center. And she brought me. Everyone was gathered around a long table. Wearing nice business clothes. I walked in and everyone looked right at me. White guy in Japan. You get used to being looked at. No big deal. I don't speak very much Japanese at this point. So, I just kind of sit there and let business get done. And everyone is drinking sake. This old grandpa kept giving me glasses of sake. I'm not much of a drinker, but it would be rude to refuse. So, I got pretty drunk. Anyway, the meeting ended, and I shook some hands and bowed and tried my best not to be a drunken fool. Everyone left and I asked the girl I kinda knew if that guy was her father, and she said, "he's not my real father, just kind of a father". Still oblivious, I went home and waited for the festival later that week. So, it's the first morning of the festival. I get to the community center at 5 AM. Nobody is wearing business clothes. And they are covered with tattoos everywhere. In Japan, tattoos means Yakuza. And then, the police show up. Not to break anything up, but to participate with the group because this group has a reputation for REALLY getting into the action. So, in order to participate, the city requires them to have a number of police on the team. So, it's me, about 5 police officers, and a dozen Yakuza carrying around a shrine weighing over a ton on our shoulders around the city. And that's when they started handing out beers. We all had as much as we could drink all day long. The Yakuza were piss drunk and looking for a fight, and the police weren't too concerned about it. I mean, that was the festival. Over the course of three days, we fought probably 10 different neighborhoods. Charging at them with a building on our shoulders. One person on our team got hurt, but it wasn't life threatening. I almost got crushed between a shrine and a house. At one point, we couldn't stop and the kenetic energy sent us through a hedge, ripping it out. The owner came out instead of yelling at us, she started giving us all more beer. I remember something about a pony, but by that time, I was too far gone to make any sense of this memory. It was just there. It was three days of warfare in this city, and the day after, you'd never know it ever happened. The suits went back on and the tattoos were covered up.