Essentially, every few days I will be posting tales from my trip, or stories inspired by tales, inspired by life events that may or may not have occurred. Just in case that isn't vague enough for you, some of the stories will be true, others will not be, but somehow or other they may or may not be related to my travels in Japan!
Without further Ado, I give you post #1: AKA I now hate the BelAir Shuttle Company!
My journey began at two-fifteen AM in a McDonalds parking lot. While this may seem like a rather odd place for one to begin a traveling excursion, it is indeed where I started. Being the smart(neurotic) traveler that I am, I had booked myself a seat on a shuttle in advance to take from my hometown of Bellingham, to Seatac airport(About 2 hours).
In any case, my roommates and I stood huddled against the frigid cold(About 65 degrees) bidding our fond farewells beneath the dim neon of the McDonalds arch. Out of the darkness, a bus emegred from the mist, at least, I like to think there was mist, part of it might have been that my contacts were in for too long, but who's counting?
The mist did not seem to matter, as I was fueled by the promise of adventure, and the slowly creeping edges of sleepiness. I loaded my things into the cargo bay of the bus and waved a fond adeu to my roommates. Of course at that point they had already left, making me look a little like a crazy person, but oh well, what happens in the McDonalds parking lot at 2AM stays there.
Moments after I had boarded I was asleep. I had already been up for far too long (I'mn a lightweight when it comes to not sleeping) and was ready to get a jump start on jet lag. The bus roared off into the night, like a bat slightly slower than one just coming from the gates of hell. I didn't seem to notice much until I awoke to the sounds of customer complaint (like fifth on the list of bad things to wake up to.) Assuming someone had merely just been having a bad morning I tried once again to sleep.
This proved to be a futile effort, as soon the complaints had gotten louder, and more numerous. "Why aren't we moving?", "What do you mean it's some sort of mechanical failure?!" The answer to that last question seems fairly obvious, but when people are tired they tend to get cranky. Realizing that my attempts at rest were going nowhere I got up to go see what was happening.
Outside there was a short woman yelling at the bus driver. "I have a six AM flight! Am I going to make it?" The bus driver shrugged and continued to stare intently at the front tire of his vehicle. I too had a six AM flight and was beginning to worry.
"What happened?" I asked them, trying to be as calm and pleasant as possible.
"The bus has a flat tire." The mechanic said, conveying that he had already been asked this enough times.
It was at this point that I began to worry, and after about ten minutes of nervous pacing I saw the outcome: If I was to wait for the bus I would miss my flight. At this point it was close to 4AM, and we were stopped at a casino that was about an hour away from the airport. It was time for plan B. I went to go find the disgruntled woman from earlier.
She was pacing around the side of the bus, talking angrily with her other companions. "What would you guys say to splitting a cab? If we leave now we can still get to the airport on time." She looked at me with desperation and agreed. We hurried over to the valet, who, somehow was still manning his desk at four in the morning. He called us a cab, and before we knew it we were on our way to the airport once again.
We arrived at the airport with at around 5AM, and I was into my gate only ten minutes before my flight was scheduled to depart. All in all, it was a close one, but I was on my way to Japan! Nothing could stop me!
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This next part is written from my hotel room in Tokyo (Spoilers: I made it!)
However, it was not without hassle. At around 11:30AM in Los Angeles, wired on a quad shot of espresso I began the boarding process for my flight to Narita. Whether it was the scumbaggy goatee that I had been attempting to grow (I shaved it off as soon as I got to my hotel) or the fact that I looked like I was straight out of Night of the Living Dead, but either way, the security team decided I was a threat...
I was nearly into the bridge to the plane when I was pulled out of line by an official looking man in a TSA uniform. "Sir can you step out of line please?" I was in no position to question, I did as he asked and followed him off to a side area where two other TSA officers were standing.
It was like a criminal interrogation. They opened my bag, asked me a series of heated questions, culminating in me pulling out my itinerary and directions to my hotel to prove that I was indeed going to Tokyo for tourism. Ten minutes later I was on the plane, but it was a terrifying ten minutes. They almost had me convinced that I was a criminal by the end(Sleep deprivation will do that.)
Eleven hours later I found myself in the airport, grabbing my bags and running as fast as I could to catch my train to the hotel. A lot of uninteresting misunderstandings and wrong transfer platforms later I found myself out in the humid Tokyo air, looking at a group of streets written in kanji I couldn't read.
The instructions for getting to my hotel only took me as far as the final subway station. After that they just said: "3 minutes on foot." Which meant that I was in close, with only infinite different directions to try. Luckily for me a highschool student saw me looking confused at the map outside and came over to offer his help.
"You looking for hotel?" I told him yes, and showed him the vague map of my hotel. He nodded vigorously and offered to take me there. Thanks to Matsuri I was able to make it to my hotel only thirty six hours after I left Bellingham!!!
More stories to come! Below is a picture from the street near my hotel.
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