Big in Japan

It was Saturday afternoon and I was wandering the side streets of Kurayoshi in a daze. I'd had a late night at DNA in Tottori, checking out Tokyo's DJ Munoz on Viva Steva's recommendation. I'd missed the last train by hours, so checked into Super Hotel, half expecting to see a cape waving from the roof. No cape, but there were bunk beds. I'd had a restless sleep, due in part to all the Guinness, in part to nightmares about a job as an underwater welder. So, the next morning I staved off sleep in an aimless meander.
I came across a large street, and directly in front of me was a shop. Big American Shop. Being a big American, I entered, bumping my head on the doorframe. No, wait a sec. Grammatically, it could be the Shop that was Big, not me, in which case, the doorframe would've been tall. Right. So, I was standing inside the shop (or Shop), surveying the merchandise with binoculars. I made my way toward the sweaters. Arriving eventually, my eye was drawn to one sweater in particular. I held it up to my chest. Nope. Too small.
I must be the biggest American in Japan.

On the turntable: Bill Laswell, "Deconstruction"