The Journey

Landed in Tokyo, and am starting to believe I'm in Japan.  Most people look asian and are speaking in Japanese, but I can't say with full confidence that I'm in Japan just yet... where are the samurai, ninja, and Bob Sapp?

Hoohoohahahah

I suppose it's possible that they're just not in the airports.


I flew on Japan Airlines, which had a pretty kickass first class.  The seats were incredibly spacious and had their own cubicles, complete with a lot of awesome shit.  I didn't fly first class.  For the other economic groundlings like myself, there were adjustable headrests, which were very comfortable.  Since these headrests could only be adjusted so much, those who were hobbit-sized didn't get much use out of them; however, the small blankets and mini-pillows that came with the seats looked like they were designed for our good hobbit friends.  The food was much better than I expected; I had some kinda chicken dish over rice that came with three trays of vegetables, a cup of miso soup, and a small bag of crackers... I could've ordered bourbon, but that may have violated the principle of flying in Economy class.  I silently vowed to violate this principle many times over the coming months.

As though there was any question of what my first meal in Japan (airport) would be.  Miso ramen - about $10.

The Narita airport in Tokyo is hot, man.  Oh, and despite being in Japan, I didn't have to take my shoes off when I went through the metal detector.  Good ol' America.  All the flight attendants (as I saw them heading towards flights) were women... and dare I say, they looked identical to each other.  It's possible there's a vending machine nearby that procures them, but it would seem that it lacks variety.  Even so, these attendants all come built-in with courtesy and smiles, which is a little suspicious.  I did not drink the punch.

The train lines were very confusing to me.  Of course, I didn't believe that Japan would let me leave the airport so easily.  The minotaur on my heels, I asked for directions ("Krispy Kreme wa doko desu ka?"), and navigated through the labyrinth to a train headed to the Nagoya stop, which is apparently different from the airport stop that is located in Nagoya.  Everyone on the train was silent, except for the ghosts who lived underneath the tracks.  "We're rusty... give us oil..." they groaned.  ...in Japanese, probably.  Nobody on the train said a word, though many of the passengers used their phones or other portable devices.

If you look closely, you can see the "Rounge."  You know, a rounge?  A place with a bar and sofas?

After a bit more travel (and some help from a pixie named Yasu:  Thank you Yasu!), I ate a McDonald's double cheeseburger (it tastes the same as in America), and met with my tomodachi, Peter (http://suntorytimes.blogspot.com/).  We took the bullet train back to his place, and we saw Neo in bullet time.  He dodged us.  Pete's place is small by American standards, but it was considerably bigger than I thought -- I would have absolutely no problem having a place the size of his.

Pete and I went to a bar (you can check it out on his blog) named Paraiso.  It's a really small place with pictures (and music) of Bob Marley everywhere.  Joe, the owner, had me sing in Japanese.  When I asked if he knew Luna Sea, he started singing True Blue (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuV3bbioqJ8), which I joined in on.  Two regulars were there, Kiyotaka (male) and Aya (female), and we collectively established that Pete was a playboy.  We also discussed the dimensions of Kiyotaka's and Aya's genitals.

Whew.  This was a long post, but it was also a long journey.  Hm.  The end.