A Tale of the Adventure: Day 1
I really kinda skipped over a great deal of the reality of my trip. I’ve shown pictures that give a glimpse into what I saw and felt was important, but I neglected to delve deeper into my experience while in Japan. I call this “Day 1” but it honestly encompasses multiple days, because the first 2-3 days of the trip are kinda jumbled on account of the time difference, and spending all my time on planes.
The whole trip honestly began on the Friday before I left. Finalizing what I was going to bring along, packing and unpacking the tripod for my camera. Deciding which camera bag would best suit my needs. Triple checking for the third day in a row that I had enough clothes packed (Spoiler alert, I messed up, and ended up short on shirts and socks.) Bottom line, there was no sleeping on Friday.
The plane was scheduled to depart at 0630 on Saturday, so lack of sleep was to be expected. The internet told me that TSA recommends that you arrive 3 hours prior to departure time. Like an idiot, I believed them, and told my ride to the airport the same. And so it came to pass that it was 0300, I’m standing in the Dayton airport, and there is not a soul to be seen.
Proximity to takeoff time only heightened my already sky-high nervous energy, and so I paced up and down the airport, hauling my three bags behind me, since I could not leave them unattended in this barren wasteland. Some invisible person might sabotage my bag or something. I say three bags, because there were three with wheels. There was a fourth bag, without wheels, that held my cameras. That bag would stay with me no matter what happened.
For over an hour I paced. Cursing the internet for telling me bad information. Cursing the airport for not being fully functional this early in the morning. Most of all, I was cursing my bladder, which took exception to my pacing, and wished to assert its dominance over me. But as I had 3 bags, and could not leave them unattended, I was forced to endure.
0415 comes around, and the people start to meander in. Showing up at the nice little counter where i have to go to drop off my bags. I managed to be first in line, and immediately divested myself of the two largest bags, which held mostly clothing, and my laptop. This left me with just my carry on, and my camera bag. Enough electronic paraphernalia that I am quite surprised the TSA didn’t flag me for a more thorough inspection. I mean, I had my cameras, a Nintendo Switch, my phone, a wide assortment of chargers and cables, a battery backup for my devices should I need it, and some small amount of clothes.
Nervous energy is reaching a crescendo at this point. I am nearer to my point of departure, I have passed through the TSA checkpoint without incident, so that was at least something. But even then, the TSA was a barrier between me and what I desired, what I feared, what I have wanted for so many years, and which I have dreaded for just as many. The airplane ride to lands unknown to me.
But first, I had to take a piss.
Thus relieved, I headed toward the gate. Anxiety ratcheting up with each agonizing step. And I mean that literally. My knee was acting up at that point, and the steps were pretty agonizing. I arrive at the gate with time to spare, so I stop at the nearby book/ miscellaneous stuff store, and buy myself a Red Bull and some M&Ms, because I am all about that healthy breakfast life, and I am a nervous eater. For around an hour and a half, i lingered there, my phone tethered to its charger so that it would have a full charge upon entering the plane.
Then, overhead, the voice of some malignant deity calls down upon us. “Flight XYZ bound for Chicago, your flight is delayed due to a malfunction in the electrical system of the plane. We are in the process of finding a replacement plane. Until then, we have bottled water and peanuts for you.”
Yep… My trip began with “broke plane”. If I were one to put stock in omens, I would have turned around and noped the hell out of there. I’ve seen Final Destination… I know what broke planes lead to.
It wasn’t until nearly 0830 when we finally boarded the plane. I use we like I knew any of the people joining me on this doomed voyage. But no, I was alone on my own personal pilgrimage. So, not only am I going to fly (Which terrifies me), I am going to do it in a flying steel deathtrap surrounded by people I don’t know (which terrifies me). And, icing on the cake here, I am doing this to go to the most populace city on the planet surrounded by people who do not speak the same language as me!
Living your dreams can be a damn scary thing, am I right?
Seated inside the tube of death, we waited on the runway for a good 45 minutes. Waiting for clearance to take off for part of that, and for another part there was apparently another electronic system that wasn’t working at 100% that they were fiddling with. Second broke plane! These omens keep piling up, and my stupid ass ignores them and moves along with this doomed excursion.
The flight is short, but it feels like an eternity. As I already said, my knee was acting up, and those connector flights are tiny pieces of shit. I literally had to sit hunched over like I was going to vomit, because the curvature of the plane made sitting upright impossible. The other option was to lean toward the strange man sitting next to me, and that was out of the question. I suppose I COULD have asked the strange man if he would like to trade seats, and have the glorious window seat. However that would involve engaging with someone beyond the most simple of platitudes. I can typically handle the “Hello”s and the “How are you”s… but toss in anything more complicated than that, and I’m worthless.
So I survive the trip to O’Hare, and make my way along the seemingly endless halls. Occasionally I would look p at the signs to see if I was heading in the right direction, but for the most part my eyes remained glued to the floor in front of me. Floors are safe. People tend to be on the floors, but at that level, they are only legs… legs are less scary.
I make my way to the United Club, which I had purchased a day pass for, since I had a long layover in O’Hare, only to find out it was too crowded, and they weren’t accepting day passes at this time. So, my day pass immediately became useless, and a great example of wasted money! Wasting money on this trip I had down to a science! So, with my hopes of relaxing in the United Club dashed, I made my way to a bar to have myself some lunch, and maybe a beer. Beers are good for frayed nerves. My nerves were quite frayed.
I landed at a place that I believe was called “Goose Island”. They had beer on the menu, and beer was something I coveted greatly. So it was a match made in heaven! And their lunch menu didn’t look too bad. Except try to order anything other than booze or pizza, and you were shot down. It was a booze and pizza sort of Saturday down at old Goose Island. Fortunately for me, pizza and beer are two things that I like!
What beers did I order? Haven’t a clue. I was mostly in survival mode at that time, and was not thinking beyond the moment. If I had to guess, looking at their menu online, I likely went with the 312 Urban Wheat, and the Green Line Pale Ale. If memory serves me, those were all they had on tap at the time, so my desire for variety would have lead me down that path.
The pizza was tasty enough for something that I am pretty sure they just tossed in the microwave, and the beers were not unpleasant so I left this stop on my journey relatively happy. Then came the long waiting at the gate.
I used my phone, booted up the Crunchyroll app, and watched the final episode of Trigun for the season… at least I think that was the final episode. Then I meandered back to my tried and true Zombie Land Saga. With a charger near my seat, and a kickstand on my phone, I lost myself in animation for a few hours. Then came time for the long journey to begin. 12 hours stuck in the air. Truthfully, this was my last chance to pull out before I was fully committed to making this trip. And I got on the plane, sat at a city with more than sufficient leg room, and went mildly insane for the next 12 hours.
The flight was turbulent. I believe we spent at least 8 of the 12 hours with the “Fasten Seatbelts” light on. I decided to try and pass the time and lose myself in the music I had downloaded to my phone (Please refer to the Soundtrack post for a sample of what that was like.) For a while, that was working great. Then, the turbulence claimed a casualty. My poor earbud could not take it anymore, and jumped from my ear into the void between seat and window. And since that “Fasten Seatbelts” light remained on, I couldn’t even get down on the ground to attempt to recover it. Instead, I got to watch on my phone, as my phone battery started dying, and my earbud charge started dying, and a little piece of me on the inside was dying. That last part was hard to see, but believe me… it was awful.
I do not know exactly when it was during this flight that I realized that they had somehow turned the windows off. I mean, it was obviously the darkest of dark magics, but as I am not magically adept, I remained ignorant. But seriously. on the ground, I could see out the window. At some point in the air, the window became a dark doorway into the depths of my soul. No light escaped these cursed portals. I’m sure some might tell you this was done so that people could get a chance to sleep on the plane, but what kind of fool sleeps on a moving vehicle? Do they not realize we are hurtling through the sky, miles above the ground, doing like 600 miles an hour? Well, they would have, if they turned their TV to the Progress channel which conveniently showed a map of where we were, current altitude, current air speed, something about tailwinds, and also the exterior temperature.
I cursed myself for leaving my Switch in the carry on bag… I had so many games I could have been playing, but… couldn’t get to my carry on, because the fasten seatbelt light was on, and we were shaking like someone had put us in a paint mixer. So, not only was my Switch inaccessible, so were the anxiety meds that I so desperately needed once the pleasant glow of the beer wore off.
Did you know, that you can play Sudoku on those little TV screens they provide? I found that out since I couldn’t play my Switch, and all my phone games required an online component, and wouldn’t you know it… no useable WiFi!
The flight staff fed us, a picture of that food is in the first day’s gallery in an earlier post. They offered beverages, and snacks, as they were apparently unaffected by the earthquake that we were experiencing. But heaven forbid the guy who is bordering on an anxiety attack go looking for something to distract himself that had fallen on the floor… I’m not bitter about that at all.
Eventually we made it to Haneda. My first view of Japan. Off the plane, and the rushing begins.
All along the path there are airport staff members holding up color coded signs. You see, prior to entry you had to submit proof of COVID vaccination, or a negative COVID test (I submitted both, because I wanted to cover all bases). The app provided you with a QR code. A QR code that was color-coded to the signs they were holding up. I didn’t speak the language, but I knew what they wanted. So I pulled up my QR code on the phone, and waved it at every one of those people with their signs. It’s okay for me to be here, at least medically.
Eventually, there is a place to scan that QR code, and you get to move on to the next color QR code. I believe that was the one to get you through customs. Present your QR code and passport, take off your glasses, and smile for the camera. The QR code is your verification that you did not bring anything hazardous into the country. I brought myself, and that is technically hazardous, but I claimed I was perfectly clean.
Next QR code. This one tells you that you are allowed to go wait for your bags at the carousel. Eventually my two bags show up, and I wander aimlessly trying to discern where my next point of attack is. I knew there were three things I needed to do.
Obtain my JR Pass, so I can access the JR lines, and by extension the Shinkansen with some increased ease
Obtain the pocket WiFi device I had rented, so that I would have semi-reliable WiFi while out and about
Get to my room, and temporarily die from stress overload.
I managed exactly 1 of those items without hassle. I utterly failed at another one of those items. A third item, I managed with some small amount of difficulty.
I found my way to the JR Pass office, and was told that it was going to be a 2 hour wait to pick up my pass. I am tenacious, and also was not going to risk not being able to find this place again, so I waited. By the time I got my pass, it was around 2030, and the place to pick up my pocket WiFi was closed at that point. So, half successful I emerge from the airport into the chilly streets of Tokyo in March. The question remained… how was I going to get my ass from Haneda, to my hotel? I was told that the taxis in Tokyo could be pricy, which lined up with my experience with taxis in LA, so I avoided the taxis. I didn’t want to try and wrangle my three bags onto a train, so the train was out. That left me with the choice of bus.
The bus system there is really kinda easy. First thing you need to do is learn Japanese. Simple, right? It’s not like they have two separate phonetic alphabets as well as an entire series of characters that are unrelated to those two alphabets and could mean different things based on the context it was used in. Simplest thing in the world.
A kind Japanese man saw that I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown and pointed to a nearby computer screen. The secrets of the bus tickets unfolded before me. I chose a bus that was leaving close to the time I was buying the ticket, and was going towards Shinjuku station. I knew I needed to be in Shinjuku, so this seemed like a logical choice. With ticket in hand I went to the line of buses. I kept saying “Shinjuku?” to anyone that seemed to know what they were doing, and they kept pointing me further along. Finally I found the Shinjuku bus… as it was closing its doors. I managed to look sufficiently pitiful for them to reopen their doors, stow my bags underneath the bus, and drive me to Shinjuku. I thought I had it made!
I was a fool.
You see, I needed to go to the Higashi-Shinjuku station right by the Square-Enix building… and that was at least a kilometer, if you knew where you were going. If, on the other hand you have a cellphone that you have sort of patched into the local network, but the GPS wants you to walk in circles everywhere, it is considerably longer. Add to that the fact that I have three mis-matched pieces of luggage that in no way want to roll together, and you have a recipe for a grand old time.
My original plan for the day, had been to check in to my hotel and then wander around Shinjuku taking in the nightlife. At this point, after knocking over my bags every couple steps, going in the complete wrong direction for several blocks, and in general just being out of sorts, I was going to count it as a win if I survived the night. Wouldn’t that have been something. Newspaper headline reads “Stupid American Dies on the Streets of Japan”. Newspapers were a thing, you damned kids… ask your parents.
After an hour of wandering, I saw hope in the distance. A logo I had familiarized myself with during the long months leading up to the trip. Yes, the Sotetsu Fresa logo beckoned me like a moth to a fire. Tired, and a knocked down from my lofty goals, I trudged forward, only knocking over my bags a few dozen more times in the process.
Upon entering this golden palace, I was met with another hurdle… How do I check in when my Japanese skills are barely there. I walk up to the front desk, and I do the only thing I can thing of … I hand the desk guy my passport. A move that should simultaneously mark me as a baka gaijin, as well as offering my name so he can verify the reservation. Through a complex mishmash of broken English, broken Japanese, and hand gestures we managed to get through the process, and I was now in possession of a room key.
I make my way to my room, randomly meeting a guy from Boston in the elevator. Conveniently, Boston man also showed me the dark ritual required to summon the elevator. Or rather, I saw him tap his key to the pad by the elevators, and just joined him on the elevator, since we were both going up anyway.
Inside my room, II must decipher the dark secrets of dispelling the darkness, as there is no light switch. I try to attack the darkness with magic missile, but it was ineffective. I might have been mildly delusional at this point. I was hungry, and hadn’t seen a bathroom since Chicago. I needed that light, and I needed it fast. Necessity proved to be a good motivator and I figured out how to operate the lights with their card reader system.
I was then confronted with a new horror… the bidet!
I can see the bidet’s purpose in a practical sense. It cleans fairly effectively, and reduces the need for paper… But, it leaves you with a wet ass! What is one supposed to do while their ass is wet? Wouldn’t it make sense for the bidet to also have a dry function? DID it have a dry function and my idiot American brain was unable to comprehend the correct sequence of button presses? Further working in the favor of using the bidet over using toilet paper… it appears that throughout Japan, it has been decided that 1-ply is not thin enough, and have managed to create 1/2-ply toilet paper. This toilet paper practically disintegrates upon touching it. It is only through great skill and the blackest of magics that one can procure this paper for use.
Let’s forget about the bidet. And move on to the room. Laying down on the bed, my feet were off the bed, unless I oriented myself at an angle. Outside of the bed and bathroom, the room did not offer much space. With my three bags, things were really crowded. Two of the bags ended up living inside the closet, so I had a little room to stretch my legs. With my crazy-wheeling bags thus stored, I was left with a simple conundrum… Do I carry through with my original plans, and go roaming Shinjuku at like 2200? Or, do I go to the restaurant attached to the hotel, and drown my sorrows in beer and ice cream?
If you guessed ice cream and beer, you know me well enough. This would be my first exposure to the omnipresent “Asahi Super Dry” which is one of the top selling beers in Japan. Honestly, after drinking it like…8 of the 12 days I was there, I don’t mind it too much, honestly I kind of miss it. …I need to see if there are any local places that import it. But not that sketchy liquor store… I’m not going there again.
Anyway, with the beer, I had a parfait. Because as Donkey says, everybody loves parfait. I chose I strawberry brulee parfait. Because strawberries are fruits, and thus this was a healthy dining option. I will die on this hill. The combo of beer and ice cream was a little weird, but… sweet baby Cthulhu that parfait was heaven in a glass container. If I were to eat nothing else but this parfait for the rest of my days, I will die happy. My words are ill-equipped to say just how much I loved this sweet treat.
Then a slight headache was coming on, so I asked the waiter if they had Coke. They did, and it was in one of those fancy “Make your own beverage abomination” machines… also, the glasses were just about the size of a double shot. My hand made this poor cup look tiny. I was afraid I would break the cup. I ended up with a lemon Coke Zero… and I have been craving another ever since.
I want to make it clear, though. This restaurant DID offer more than parfaits and beer and lemon Coke Zero. I could have actually had a full meal at this point. But, I’m not gonna lie. The time between stepping off the plane, and stepping into my hotel room was so insanely stressful, I almost didn’t get anything to eat, and just hid in my room for the rest of the night. The anxiety was in high gear, I was twitching. Trying to decipher the menu was just not gonna happen. Nope, I was just going to point at things that look like comfort food, and do that.
I pay the bill, and decide my nerves are steady enough after the beer, that I could make my way to one of Tokyo’s roughly 3 million convenience stores, in this case a 7/11. I roamed the small store, just taking in all the stuff that was available to buy, and my sorry ass was a little overwhelmed again… I seriously do not do good with choices. I want ALL the things. So I buy myself some Japanese Coke Zero, a Coke Plus, a Grape Red Bull, some onigiri, and a can of Asahi Super Dry.
This is when I learned another important lesson about Japan. Bags for groceries are not free! If you want a bag, they will charge you for the bag. Bring your own bag. It’s not like it will save you a lot of money, but it will save you some. Also, their method of verifying age appeared to be a touch screen with a “Yes” and a “No” button… It took the cashier a lot of pointing to get me to figure that out, but once I knew, I was on the ball for all future purchases.
My rations for the night obtained, I made my way slowly back to the hotel… which was nearly 100 meters away! So many 10’s of meters. This was the day I learned my Crunchyroll subscription was useless in Japan, so there would be no watching anime for me. So, I pulled out a book, and read for a while, before deciding to let the exhaustion of like…48 hours without sleep take me.
…The pillow felt like it was stuffed with packing peanuts. I did not like it.
