YOU CAN’T SCARE ME, I ATE FUGU AND YELLED AT A MOUNTAIN

Two more bucket list items have officially been conquered. And this time, I had to leave the country, risk death by dinner, and wake up early on purpose to do it.

I just returned from Japan, where I successfully crossed off:

• #82: Eat fugu (pufferfish)
• #17: Personally photograph Mount Fuji

🎣 Fugu Me? Fugu You!

For the uninitiated, fugu is the Japanese delicacy that might be your last meal if the chef screws up. It’s prepared from a pufferfish that contains enough poison to turn your nervous system into a Windows 95 shutdown sequence. It is 1,200 times more lethal than cyanide and has enough tetrodotoxin to kill 30 men (or 12 baby elephants). And there is no known antidote. If you get a bad batch, not even an industrial drum of Pepto will save you. In Japan, only licensed chefs are allowed to prepare it because “Oops, I left a speck of death on your plate” isn’t a great Yelp review.

Naturally, I was in.

And yes, I know the odds of dying from fugu are astronomically low these days. But when you’ve built your entire personality around crossing off strange bucket list items, you don’t pass on the opportunity to eat something that comes with a side of “potential autopsy.”

In case you are wondering, here is what happens if the chef sneezes while preparing the dish.

• Tingling lips and face
  Starts like mild Novocaine. You think, “How quirky!” No. It’s doom knocking.
• Numbness spreads
  Lips, then face, fingers, toes — your body is clocking out while your brain is like, “Wait, what?”
• Muscle paralysis begins
  Arms and legs go limp. You are now a floppy meat puppet.
• Loss of motor function
  Can’t stand. Can’t lift your arm. Can’t even flail for dramatic effect.
• Slurred or halted speech
  Your mouth forgets how to be a mouth. You try to say, “Call an ambulance!” but it comes out as “glorble blarp.”
• Diaphragm paralysis
  Breathing? That was fun while it lasted. Your lungs are officially on strike.
• Heart rate drops
  Your ticker is slowing like it just saw Monday on the calendar.
• Complete paralysis
  You can’t move. Can’t blink. You are essentially a conscious potato.
• Full awareness remains intact
  You feel everything. You hear everything. You know you’re dying. But your body’s like, “Sorry, bro. We’re closed.”
• Death by suffocation
  Not dramatic choking — just a slow, silent fade as oxygen stops making the rounds, while your still-working brain mentally screams into the void.

Fugu: because nothing says “fine dining” like watching your own slow-motion shutdown while everyone else is Instagramming their appetizers.

I went to a legit spot in Kyoto. Not some back-alley sushi shack run by a guy named Gary who once watched a YouTube video on pufferfish. I went to Watanabeya (海鮮処 わたなべや). This place had a certificate on the wall (I think. I don't know Japanese.), a stone-faced chef with terrifying knife skills, and a menu written entirely in kanji. So, I assume it said, “Eat at your own risk, Brett.”

They did have an English menu, but it only had about 12 things on it and none of it was fugu. I had to ask the waitress if they had it.She repeated my apparently butchered pronunciation about ten times just to make sure she wasn't about to serve me fermented horse liver. "Hai. Hai. Fugu. Yes."

She gave me this.

She pointed at two items. "This fugu. This fugu," and left me there to decide my fate.

Using my handy-dandy Google Translate camera, I saw that one was grilled and one was hot pot. Now, I like hot pot, but I just wanted to eat the death fish. Not a soup that had toxic fish in it.

I placed my order along with a couple of beers to get mentally prepared for this. I was psyched, but then the waitress came back to make it worse.

WAIT?!? I have to cook the Grim Reaper fish myself?

 

Was it good?

Sure. But also… not not rubbery.

Honestly, it tasted like tilapia that went to college and got a philosophy degree. Not bad, but you’re mostly eating it to say you ate it. Like escargot. Or airport sushi.

The highlight wasn’t the taste. It was the drama. Every bite came with just enough existential spice to make me rethink my life choices.

And it was worth every paranoid chew.

🗻 Mount Fuji: Now Featuring Me in the Frame

The second item on the list was much less dangerous, but way more majestic.

Mount Fuji has been on my bucket list since I first learned what a bucket list was. I’ve seen a million photos of it, but I wanted one that I took. Something that said, “I was there. I aimed my cheap tourist camera at greatness. And I didn't drop it in a koi pond.”

Now, if you’re planning to see Mount Fuji, here’s something the brochures don’t tell you: she’s a diva.

Fuji hides behind clouds like she’s contractually obligated to only appear for National Geographic photographers or people who didn’t fly across the world just for her. When I first saw it after getting off the bus, I snapped a quick shot.

Do you see it? Yeah. Me, neither. But it was there. I swear.

 

I saw it many, many times over the next few days, but the best shot was the evening of the next day.

 

There she was—towering, symmetrical, snow-capped, and absolutely perfect.

It looked like someone reached into a painting and hit "print."

I stood there for a good 20 minutes snapping photos, just in case she changed her mind and disappeared again like some geologically massive ghost.

✅ So That’s Two More Off the List

I’ve eaten a potential death fish like a daring contestant on Fear Factor: Sushi Edition.
I’ve personally photographed one of the most iconic mountains on Earth without having to Google “why is it cloudy at Mount Fuji?”

That brings me to a total of 14 completed bucket list items out of 171.

And I’m not stopping now.

Stay tuned. Because eventually I’m going to run with the bulls, bathe in a volcano, or build a robot that teaches itself to yodel. No promises on the order.

You can see the complete list here.