When the going gets weird, the weird go to Tokyo. Just not to the auto show.

Big-time auto shows are rarely normal places. Even the most mundane national motor show is a strange combination of pomp, sheet metal, and massive egos; the sensory overload is akin to what you might get if the 24 Hours of Le Mans somehow materialized inside a packed strip club. Faced with the colossal dose of weirdness that is press time at the average auto show, most people simply shut down and gawp. Even seasoned professionals have problems getting work done.

Still, in the land of the weird, Tokyo is king. Asia’s funkiest city boasts such strangeness as “furry” gentlemen’s clubs (stripper in a bunny suit, anyone?) and an entire district of town seemingly devoted to the joys of the catholic schoolgirl outfit. Traditionally, the Tokyo Motor Show has been host to an equal amount of Odd.

No longer. Maybe the economic climate is to blame, but to these eyes, the Tokyo show seems to have grown remarkably tame. Compared with the relatively pedestrian offerings at places like Frankfurt and Geneva, Japan’s biggest automotive event is still at the top of the bizarro heap, but there’s no denying that things have changed. Gone are the blatant “Engrish” bastardizations in press materials; gone are the funky costumed floor girls, the mattress-sized balloon animals, and the self-guided robotic bar stools. In their place is a surprising amount of solemnity: Traditional Japanese whimsy and the vagaries of culture differences still make for a decent amount of entertainment, but the glorious, What the Hell is That? quality of years past is remarkably absent.

All things considered, it’s probably for the better. Auto shows work best when they fit into a mold, when they’re predictable, and when they offer little in the way of surprises. But a not-so-small part of me misses the mercurial, quirky atmosphere of Tokyo shows past. I miss the unexpected.

On that note, I’ve been thinking. Maybe all is not lost. Maybe the Japanese just need to be reminded of what they're missing. Maybe next year I’ll commission a couple of house-sized balloon animals to follow me around the floor; maybe I’ll smuggle in a case of silly string; maybe I’ll dust off my bunny suit. Like the old saying goes, if you want something done right…