Night of the Motorcycle Ninja's, Episode 4, An Old Pope.

As we weaved closer to the elevated crosswalk it became obvious that the sound of what we mistook for a few motorcycles tearing away from an intersection was too loud and continuous to be of the ordinary. Traffic was stopped and noticeably backed up, at least for around midnight. Mike and I mounted the metal steps in hurry and looked down upon a scene unique in both our experiences. Racing around on large dirtbikes were four teenagers dressed in the type of simple ninja suit you could by anywhere on Okinawa. I say ninja suit but it may have just been a uniform one could use while excercising or practicing martial arts. The riders must have donned the outfits not only because they were intimidating but due to the fact that they covered the riders' faces.

Looking down from the walkway, at first the scene was chaotic. We saw a few bikes with the outlandish riders a few cops milling inside the chaos. The drivers sitting at the blocked intersection sat there passively without so much as blowing their horns or waving the firsts out the window. After a few minutes the bikes tore off down a couple of the ubiquitous dark and narrow alleys, traffice began moving again and the police wandered back into the station that was on the corner across the street from where we were standing. We were astonished and we had completely forgotten about our destination and wordlessly agreed to stay right where we were. Mike turned to me and started gushing, "Oh, man, do you know what those guys are?"

"No," I said a little confused, "ninjas?"

"Jesus, no. Those guys are anarchists."

"Really?" I had read about anarchists and I was pretty sure some punk bands had anarchists in them but I had never seen a real anarchist. I was surprised by the actual face of anarchy as it a was being presented to me that night. It caused me to think that I may be an anarchist, even though I was in the military, because my best friend in high school and I busted up other people's property when we knew we could get away with it when we got drunk. These masked teenagers on huge dirt bikes were out brothers Mike and I decided.

The kids on the bikes gave the police officers enough time to get back inside the station before they wheezed back into the intersection,each from a different direction.
This time Mike was ready for them and he cheered them. Traffic stopped again, the drivers were waiting patiently for the bikes to clear and the cops moved wearily out the station brandishing their batons. The kids on the bikes just rode around in a circle in the intersection, one carried a rising sun Japanese flag on a small pole. The cops lumbered after the bikes and occasionally made a swipe at one with his stick, rarely connecting. After less than ten minutes they tore off again and did not return.

Mike was ecstatic. "Wow, I love that kinda shit! That was so cool. Did you see how they pissed those cops off. Man, I love this kind of anarchic rebellion. I wonder why one carried the rising sun flag?"

"Independence?"

"I don't know. Hey, we better get out of here." The police had noticed us up on the crosswalk and were motioning for us to go. They didn't want to give the trouble makers more of an audience than necessary. We headed to the bar called the "A-Sign" with Mike praising his new heros the whole way.