These streets were too familiar.
There was the Marunouchi crossing, by the Coach store on the corner. It is where the sightseeing bus tours seemingly take off--I, however, have yet to see one.
There was a road beyond this that run parallel to it. I've never seen such a thing here. It looked crowded, grimy, and stale, like the east outskirts of Shibuya. I knew this street, but it certainly did not belong here. It was as if someone had patched up my sense of direction into this big, messy handicraft.
I crossed the main street on bike, cars zooming past me at the speed of light. I came out alive on the other side, and headed towards the street.
It stunk. As soon as I turned the corner, I saw the buildings were still iconically Marunouchi (their silver bodies glistening in the sun like fish). Yet I smelled rubbish. A whole outrageous heap.  There was an undeniable disturbance in the air, that did not cooperate with its surroundings. I was completely lost.
In a flash, I was in the middle of a highway junction. It was Roppongi, but not the Roppongi I knew (There was never a monsterous concrete conglomerate here--was there?) It was a heap of garbage. I biked. I weaved through a river of cars to reach the top, but I had no intention of doing so. It seemed as if reaching the top was the only way to go somewhere else.
My nose was blasted and stunned with an extremely hazardous smell. It was supposedly chemical waste in my interpretation. Warning sirens shrilled in my mind as my nose refused to accept this smell. It was absolutely horrible, one of the worst, pungent smells imaginable. "Gold Kryptonite...." I mumbled. (ought to wipe out Superman for good).

I went on anyway, clutching my wobbling head through this sea of absolute horror. Then, before I reached a pinnacle of any kind, I was zooming down the conglomerate like a crazed animal. The slim, maroon  road went round, round, round the conglomerate, like a risky roller coaster. It wasn't lean enough as to throw me head first off my bike. But the scale of its enormity and spontaneity made me jumpy and excited all over. I knew it, my bike was going to die. It wasn't strong enough to handle this massive road project.I was shooting down like a cosmic rocket ball, soaring through with my bike almost unstoppable. The wheels weren't turning; they were too slow.
I was practically whizzing down.

I remembered my aunt lived in an apartment in Roppongi (no, not really).
"I wonder how she does this every morning," I thought, "And not telling me a word about it!"