"They named it Tori-no-Ichi."

Travel Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue Magazine inadvertantly goes of the beaten track in Tokyo:

"The one unpleasant experience on our trip occurred when we asked one of the concierges in our hotel if she could land a reservation at Umi, known for its sushi. Umi accepted our request, then phoned back to say that unless we spoke Japanese or brought a translator, they would have to cancel. (I don’t remember how to say “racist pig” in Japanese, but I didn’t overhear the phrase in her conversation with the restaurant.) Instead, she booked us at another Umi across town. Only as our taxi was speeding away from the hotel did she warn us that this Umi probably had nothing to do with the real Umi. Probably? It was in a shabby neon district of topless bars, massage parlors, and touristy restaurants. We were the only customers in the place, and the food bordered on the incompetent. The worst part was that we had squandered a precious night in Tokyo. But at least we had found the Shibuya red-light district."

I'm sure you took issue with at least one element of that paragraph.  I know I did.  Unfortunately Vogue don't seem to have asked Umi for a right to reply.