back in Japan!

It took four years, two delayed plane flights, a two hour bus ride, and four ibuprofen, but I am finally back in Japan. During the plane flights I experienced a new form of psychological hell known as the indirect international flight. Having a delayed flight to SFO and then  3+ hour layover before flying to Japan on a 10 hour flight totally fucks with your concept of time. It felt like I was in some sort of messed up government experiment for some new form of urban psychological warfare. Thinking you only have about 2 hours left of flying left and then learning you actually have 6 isn't fun at all. For some reason it was more economical for Scott and I to fly to SFO first before heading to Japan, which is insane because if I had flown to SFO first, instead of Scott flying down here, we would have been required to fly back to LAX before flying to Japan. I don't know how they make money by making us do that, but I hate them for it. Let my fly direct, assholes.

Full. Fucking. Leg. Extension.

On the bright side, we did get "upgraded" seats on both flights and flying Delta was totally the way to go. For future reference, ask the person at the counter if you can have exit row seats. Even though the tray is so far away that you either have to lean forward to use it, or can't use it at all, the leg room you get is amazing. You can do full leg extensions and not kick the person in front of you. The flight attendants tricked us into thinking our upgrades were better than they were. Scott and I were handed menus telling us what our dinner choices were, and the way the described our options I was convinced they were going to be served on a real plate. "Beef strips with japanese style barbeque sauce, vegetables and rice" makes it sound like you are getting something fancy. I should have known it was a lie when they forgot to capitalize the "J" in Japanese, but I was too distracted by visions of the promised shrimp cocktail coming in some sort of crystal chalice to notice the grammatical error. Even though the food was of questionable quality, the movie choices were great; and all on-demand. Though the random (sometimes backwards) subtitles and the fact that the guy in front of me was watching the Justin Beiber documentary made it hard to focus on any one thing for an extended period of time. Ass did the psychological torture.

"Death Box"

When we finally landed in Tokyo we were welcomed by strong crosswinds and a "Down with Narita" sign that made me wonder what I was about to walk into. Fortunately, we made it through customs easily, got our bags right away, and only one person made a joke about my passport photo, so I'm going to count that as a win (my passport photo is hideous). After buying our tickets for the "Airport Limousine," which are just buses with curtains, we had to wait outside for 15 minutes to get picked up, and that was when things started to get a little weird. At the airport they have smoking sections that are outside the terminal, but in an enclosed box. I can only guess that the reason they do this is because they are either trying to kill off their smokers more quickly by putting them in a room full of smoke to speed up the whole dying process, or the air outside the box is too oxygen rich and lighting a cigarette might cause the entire country to erupt in flames. Maybe both. I don't know. I'm not a scientist. Stop judging my theories.

After a 2 hour bus ride, we made it to the hotel and for reasons we haven't figured out our room was upgraded to an awesome double-suite. It comes complete with a living room with two couches that turn into beds, two balcony's, and two full bathrooms. My theory is that after 16+ hours of flying and sitting with 6 hours of psychological torture rolled and a two hour bus ride, that Scott and I looked tired and grizzled and that our appearances, combined with my awesome beard, made the concierge too afraid of me to not upgrade the room. I'm pretty sure he committed seppuku afterward to atone for not being brave enough.

After dropping off our bags, we needed food and wanted to stop by a Lawson's (fancy 7-11) to get tickets for the Ghibli Museum. Despite a deep-seated fear of us, the hotel staff was nice enough to give us a map to the closest Lawson's AND give us directions on how to get there in English. Despite this fact, Scott and I managed to take a wrong turn when the directions were "go straight and make the second left." This should have been the first sign that we probably shouldn't be out wandering the streets and talking to random Japanese people, but we were tired, hungry, and possibly suffering from PTSD, so we soldiered on anyway. We found the/a Lawson's and then proceeded to terrorize the clerk by asking him to help us buy tickets for the Ghibli Museum. We forgot to look up what the museum was called in Japanese, and as we spoke the clerk looked more and more like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights and hurriedly started taking the cash out of the register. Realizing we weren't going to get what we wanted, we quickly ran out of the store before he could hit the silent alarm and the police could show up and arrest us on our first day in Tokyo.

To recover from the trauma, we ducked into the nearest CoCo Ichibanya where a cool guy by the name of Yamamoto-san gave use Japanese curry and rice. Scott whined about it being too spicy, despite ordering the flavor for children who can't handle spice, and that the fries were too salty. I told him to shut up. Yamamoto-san asked us a bunch of questions that we were only able to answer partially, but Yamamoto-san seemed pleased with himself for talking to us so I don't feel too bad about it. After dinner we wandered around briefly, making sure the landmarks we remembered from our last trip were still there before returning to the hotel to terrorize the staff.