You want it? They’ve got it. At least that seems to be the case in Akihabara. We are spending the afternoon in Tokyo’s Electric Town. As we walk across the river from the train station, we see police vans blocking off the streets. This allows the thousands of consumers to wander freely through the city blocks of multistory commercial frenzy. It also looks like an opening scene from Godzilla attacks Tokyo. Where are we?

Akihabara is vibrant, literally awash in neon color. Multistory billboards advertise electronics, video games, manga, American movies, anime, and cartoon characters. It is a bit overwhelming. I don’t know where to look. Should look at the signs, the items for sale, the food vending machines, the arcade games, the skyscrapers, the police cars, or the people walking by looking like they stepped out of a comic con cosplay session. We are deep in Japanese “otaku” (geek) country, and determined to embrace it. 

We start in a 10 story electronics store. There is just about one worker for every shopper. They don’t hover or make you feel watched. Instead they clean and straighten and are immediately responsive to your every need. It is refreshing after living in the land of self checkout.

We ride endless escalators between floors of watches, televisions, computers, printers, clocks, telescopes, toilet seats, and every conceivable gadget. After a while I can’t remember if the exit is up the escalator or down. A rescue party may need to help me find my way out. I should have left a trail of rice pellets.

The selections are endless. I didn’t know there were thousands of brands of high end watches. I did not have so many varieties of cameras and computers on my radar. I am simply overwhelmed with choices.

Another store is filled with action figures, trading cards, toys, and collectibles. Godzilla is on prominent display, perhaps only overshadowed by Pokémon characters. It is like being in a “Downtown Disney” shopping area for geeks. I am starting to think that maybe I am an unrealized “otaku”.

I am fascinated by the endless arcades. I can play video games or try one of the thousands of claw machines. But it turns out I am mostly drawn to gachapon. Don’t get too excited. Despite how it sounds, that just means I love capsule machines. I put in a few coins and a prize pops out in a plastic capsule. I get a miniature plastic sushi, a Japanese lantern, and even a cloth bag to hold my power cords. I am digging for more change, but my husband drags me out of the store before I start using the credit card. He knows the early warning signs.

What an experience. Two retired Americans spend the day with thousands of Japanese teenagers. We smile and play. We learn some things. As we return to the train, I see a giant advertisement for a new J-pop group. They are posing with thumbs up. I salute them with two thumbs up of my own. Not my scene, but for one afternoon there is nowhere I would rather be.