Day One

Airports are nerve wracking. First thing off, they slam you with parking ticket. What? You're already charging me money?

EGADS!

To get into the parking garage, you pull up to a metal sentry with a huge green button that somehow reminds me of jabbing a clown's nose.

Ahooogaa!

It should honk, really, it should. So out pops a ticket, like a tongue, and you hafta snatch it quick! Otherwise the jerk behind you will start honking his horn.

NOT like a clown's nose.

Also, there's the red and striped bar in front of you, that supposedly stops you from going anywhere.

Hullooooo!

2 ton car totally trumps flimsy bar that will snap like a twig when I drive through it.

According to the movies, though, this causes all sorts of bells and whistles. I suspect these are just because the special effects crew is bored. It is very likely.

The next it is old hat+ park the car, ride the elevator, almost get trapped in the revolving door, approach the ticket counter.

I don't think we could've entered the building farther away from Alaska Airlines if we tried.

The electronic kiosk was a bust. And yes, I mean the colloquialism that means "dead end" or "bad choice". Even though it says Monica (middle name Millner on my passport, the electronic signature only read the Monica Millner bits. My plane ticket is for Monica (middle name Millner, so the kiosk thought my passport was for the wrong person. I told it to ignore that, and we moved on.

Then it asked me how many bags I was checking. Apparently this was a trick question, because next to my name it said checked bags allowed for this ticket (0).

When I pressed two, and hit enter, I fully expected the glitchy thing to light up and start wailing like a bumped arcade machine.

ERROR! ERROR!

Then it went black, flickered, welcomed me to Alaska Airlines and do I need a ticket? Touch the screen to start

Stupid kiosk.

So I got in line for the counter.

Lemme tell ya, flying to a different country makes this part interesting. They quiz you about all sorts of things. Like....have you smoked, practiced safe sex or done drugs?

Just kidding :)

It's more like they type in whatever country you're flying to, and double-check that you fulfill all of their requirements. If the country requires vaccinations, or a visa, you better have proof!

Luckily Japan loves visitors. Visit all you like!

*menacing voice* But don't you dare try and stay here, you white person!

Unless you stay more than 90 days, a visa isn't needed. So all I need is my handy dandy passport :)

In its pink kitty case.

Next was the check point. The lines for A-C were looooong. So long, everyone bunched up altogether and security had to keep straightening people out into separate lines. One suck misinformed security personnel informed me I could go through express since I was "going through Seattle".

The pug-faced guard at the rope convinced me otherwise.

Great. My ride had left because John and Melanie thought that I was all-clear, and I was back to the end of the supermondo long line Luckily, I was informed. I cut through the big bunched up line, and got in a shorter one hidden behind it.

It still wasn't moving that fast.

By now, I was panicking. It was 9:40, my plane "started boarding" at 9:25, and left at 10:05. I was never going to make it!

Then the line shuffler came back and started informing newcomers "Go to the check point for D&E. It's going much faster.

Man, I was off. I wanted that! That check point was just around the corner, so I ran too it and boy was it going fast. So fast, I couldn't read the carry-on rules sign. I had to lean over ribbons, snag a zip-loc baggy and sneak-a-peak while moving. I didn't have much stuff for the little thing. Stuffed in some ben-gay and another cream, fumbled out my passport and boarding pass, and next thing I knew a new station was being opened.

"I can take someone over here!"

I was first there. Booya.

I love ticket checkers. They get such an intense look on their face while reading your information. And no one EVER addresses a single woman, because they are afraid they will get my title wrong.

Well, shucks. It says 'miss' right on my passport!

All the men get "Have a good flight, Mr. Johnson."

And I get "Uh, here. Have a good day."

Thanks.

Well, this guy didn't say much. Just wielded his orange highlighter like an out of control light saber all over my pass.

Shing! Shing!

They've gotten much better at this x-ray thing. Empty your pockets, take out your laptop, liquids 3oz or less only in a zip-loc, shoes and jacket off, carry-on off and dump it all in tubs.

Put my passport in the bin, waltzed through the metal detector barefoot, arms swinging, and made it scot-free.

My stuff on the other hand...Not so much.

Here, and I thought I should be worried about my epically awesome "police line do not cross" bag with all of its junk shoved in...But apparently it was my camera bag that was offensive.

A man took the tray, and left me standing coatless and barefoot. That wouldn't have been a problem, except this is Portland we're talking about and I was wearing a spaghetti strap dress.

I felt like a waif.

They ran it through three times, then submitted my poor camera through a "random search."

As I retrieved and put on my coat and shoes, the man explained that they actually had a running bet that it was a tripod that was making everything all wonky.

Well whatdyaknow. I've got a mini metal tripod! Unfortunately, it was hidden real good and time was ticking to catch my flight.

Aargh!

Happily, he ran the tripod through all by itself, then came back smiling.

"Here you go!"

Then he left me standing with the innards of my camera case strewn all over the search table.

Thanks bud, thanks a lot.

So I jammed everything together, slung it over my shoulders, and took off at a fast clip. Not an easy thing to do while on the phone.

The guy who redirected me: He LIED. He said that it'd be easy to get to gate A from the other checkpoint....But even though the two checkpoints were super close to each other, gates D and A were NOT.

I ended up running all the way across the Airport whilst reassuring my gramma on the phone that yes, I was at the airport and no I can't hurry any faster! There are some pretty abandoned sections of that place, lemme tell ya. I get there, just as my plane is boarding, and find out why it was so bloody far away.

That plane was tiny.

I think it was smaller, eve, than the shuttle I took to Jackson Hole Wyoming when I was 14

Although, that airport was a log cabin. Literally. And there was barely any room for the ticket counter and baggage claim. The whole place was crammed.

So I went up the five steps into the tiny plane that gave me an instant feeling of claustrophobia and proceeded to bang my head several times.

Take off was awesome. We taxied for only a tiny while, then we were off! My seat was cool, a window seat. I got to see the propeller start up. I've sat in wing seats before, but in a small plane, it's an experience. When we took off, we shot straight up like a cork bobbing to the surface.

Did you ever do that science experiment where you create a cloud in a bottle? It's wispy, and hard to see through. It's different than cotton candy, but you know that if you put your hand in it it will be tangible. It will flit about your hand and spark nerve endings.

When we hit the first puff of clouds, it was magical. We went through them fast, in and out like a fish. It was dizzying.

The little low ones were fun, then we hit cloud cover. When we rose through it and skimmed over it, it was amazing. Little planes skip over the top. I saw a rainbow in the clouds! It was just a short segment, but I was it from above. It was super neat.

There seems to be a weird prism affect way up in the sky. Which makes sense since clouds are made of water. Water reflects light, right?

The plane left a shadow on the clouds which was super cool because it looked so tiny. It had a circular glow of rainbow around it.

It's totally unexplainable.

The flight to Vancouver B.C. was the shortest flight I've ever been on. Only 59 minutes! That's crazy.

When we hit the tarmac, it was all wet from the rain. The propeller spraying the water on the pavement was the cool too. It rippled and sprayed weird, the pressure from the plane affecting it in funny ways.

We got the leave the place all willy nilly like a train. From more than one door. We all piled out, then stood there like idiots. On short jumps, bags you don't need (because the plane doesn't have any carry-on space, pretty much) get stowed underneath. They called it carry-out.

I was one of the few that didn't have a bag stowed. So I just left.

They're really determined to keep us foreigners separate until customs. It was like a rat race: long winding empty tunnels that led nowhere. I could see the airport and other people through the glass walls, which made me feel insanely segregated. This hall funneled me up, over, and around the main floor. Two people met me, and sent me farther.

"Oh, you'll find it."

I think I'd prefer a mirror maze at the fun house over this maze of glass. Everyone was looking in on me, but I was still all alone.

Super weird.

I got sent down halls, up escalators, across sky bridges, on floor overlooking the main part of the airport...

I was nerve-making and uncomfortable.

So I get kind of...herded into a glass walled room of sorts. I had to go through several jigsaw halls to get the the desk I was sposed to go to: even though i could see it perfectly clearly from ages away.

Around the last corner I had to cross a bridge. Literally. Like, a wooden hump bridge you'd find in a garden over a stream. It even had potted plants, and chances were, they were real.

This is a ridiculous item to have, because after the bridge without a stream, all there was was a HUGE room with one table, and a booth in the far corner.

And a ribbon to keep you from getting "lost." Incidentally, to also make you took the longest route to that booth.

If the Canadian government was aiming to get me dazed and confused, they succeeded. In fact, I was so overwhelmed the customs form made absolutely no sense to me. So I closed my eyes, scribbled some stuff down (pretty much verifying that I wasn't bringing any alcohol, cigarettes, or food into the country.)

Heck. I wasn't even staying in Canada! What is wrong with this world?!

I suppose that Canada didn't want to get in trouble for harboring (for two whole hours!) a minor who was trafficking alcohol...

Pft. Yeah right. Me? I don't even get invited to alcoholic parties!

After that fiasco, I was home free.

B.C.'s airport was...eye opening.

PDX is a respectable size. And it's always packed. But B.C. was huge! End EVERYTHING is written at least three times. Once in English, French, and Japanese/Korean/Chinese (take your pick. They sure did. They weren't too consistent, really...)

When Miki announced, all excited, that she and Yuki were going to Canada for Christmas, I was skeptical. I mean, how in the world is that romantic? Well, the airport was too big to be crowded, but MAN were there a bunch of Japanese! 8 out of every 10 people I saw were chattering in Japanese. (And giving me the stink eye).

Well, I guess that Miki's belief that Canada is awesome is a pretty popular one in Japan.

I counted. I think I saw 4 school groups. Japanese school groups. One of them was made up of like, 10 8 year olds. And they all started singing.

Woohoo!

Apparently, I can't count.

My ticket said the flight was JL017, so I wandered about for several minutes before I realized that the gate numbers only went from 40-70.

For a moment, I was consumed by panic.

Was I at the wrong airport?!

Sometimes I wonder if I've only got quarters rolling around in my head. At least then I'd have money.

So after I opened my eyes (and squinted past the French) I realized that on the same board that told me what ti,e my flight boarded, it told me what gate my flight was at!

Dur!

That short little flight? Didn't even give out nuts. They gave out a "sunrise" packet that had a grand total of 3 pieces of cereal, 4 small banana chips, a nut.....and that was it.

Srsly.

So when a cute Japanese girl waltzed by with a personal pizza, I about attacked her.

So I followed the hordes of Japanese girls, got my pass, and made a beeline for Pizza Hut. I had 5 minutes to eat that pizza. And I was starving. I wolfed that thing . I think one dude snapped a picture of me with his phone. I was snarling and everything. I was ferocious, and they were all staring at me like I was a freak show....

And you know what?

I was too hungry to even care.

I think I was the only white girl in the entire waiting area. That was one excuse for ppl to stare. Another was that I was alone.

*gasps*

Cute Asian girls travel alone, Miki did it tons! So why is it such a travesty when a white girl does?

I had been so proud of my outfit, too. Rather pretty/conservative, I thought. And then (with the help of a few pointed stares I realized that a sun-dress that shows cleavage isn't considered conservative in most countries.

Ah gosh darn it. I like the dress because it's pretty. I think it's the most revealing item I have in my wardrobe, in regards to my boobs (which isn't saying much). And also, because of the style, there's no way to wear something underneath.

So, I ended up zipping up my jacket and feeling ashamed of myself. which is ridiculous. It doesn't show THAT much! So I looked pretty, but was too ashamed to be confident.

It didn't help that all of those tiny Asian girls had amazing style...

Grr.....

They all wear bright colors and crazy patterns. Also, why in the world are there so many in B.C.?

Srsly. Wtf?

I'm easily entertained, I swear. My section boarded first so I excitedly jumped up and hurried over...to block the tunnel to the plane and take pictures.

It was a double decker!

I've been on one plane that had three rows, but never one so big. It had different doors to enter depending on your section, and everything.

Which, after I sat down, kinda freaked me out because I watched Flight Plan recently. Makes me glad I wasn't traveling with anyone. That movie's a nightmare inducer for sure.

First thing I noticed was that, obviously, the "flight attendant” memo had not reached Japan.

All were friendly, pretty, and wearing knee length skirts, white blouses, blazer type vests, heels, and these really neat neckties (around their neck, not their shirt collar) that were tied to the side and kinda....frothed over their vest.

They looked like silk and had lots of patterns on them.

Every single seat had a t.v.! Like, your own personal one where you could watch movies (there were like 10 to choose from, listen to music, or play games. I slept first, actually, and did all those neato things later. I had an aisle seat and two very proper young men sat next to me who refused to talk to me at all.

Lovely.

I looked around the plane. I spotted 5 white people, all men, and two non-Asian women, but they spoke some other language and weren't white. Being the minority makes me wish I were some other race.

(p.s. I got to talk to a little old lady after the plane landed, who was blond. Was a teacher that lived in Japan for 40 years! She was nice :))

When you're American, you're ignorant, without tradition, and directionless.

I don't like it.

We got our first meal 2 hours into the flight. Suffice to say, I was surprised.

Food?

Of course, I could still taste pizza in my mouth, so I wasn't all that hungry. Isn't that how it always goes? They showed me (and my silent compatriots) a "menu" with two pictures on it that meant nothing to me.

"Chicken?" the stewardess chirps. "Or feeeesh?"

Chicken, definitely chicken.

My neighbors all dug in, but I didn't think I was quite prepared for the culture shock, actually. It was chicken in this weird brown sauce, and rice that had freeze dried peas (yuck, I avoided those), carrots, and scrambled eggs. There was a side dish of green noodles, they were okay. If slimy and vinegary. And cold.

I avoided the unidentifiable substance (vegetable?) on top of the green noodles.

The other dish I thought was potato salad: until I realized that it was made with something like creole mayo.

Spicy.

Slimy.

Cold.

And I don't think the potatoes were potatoes. I gave up on that one. I'm proud to say, though, that I used my chopsticks just fine! Although, it was probably in my favor that they were super short....

Have you ever seen chicken cooked to look like beef?

Lemme tell ya: it looks and tastes odd. But good. Very very good.

Think...curry chicken :)

A few of the traditional types on the plane took off their shoes and put on slippers. Which was interesting. The majority took their shoes off, but I was in an aisle seat and didn't wanna chance my poor toes.

I got ran over by carts often enough as it was. Oh! The dinner plate had a warmer under it. Queer, huh? It was really hot at first.

INTERJECTION!

My stereotypes have been entirely swept to the ground where they've proceeded to shatter, just now. I just saw a transvestite flight attendant waltz by. A Japanese transvestite. With pretty rainbow eye make-up (unless he was a transsexual?). He had an ascot thingy too, and man was he tall!

Well, not taller than I...but for an Asian, definitely. Kinda...older, though.

End Interjection

Lunch was unidentifiable.

It was a sandwich, with an odd filling. There were carrots. And fish, I think. It tasted suspiciously like a veggie bun from Uwajimayas, 'cept those don't have fish.

And now I've completely caught up with my day! (Took half my 10 hour flight...

I just finished my customs form, which was easy. Although I had to declare Miki's textbooks because 1. they were "asked to be brought to this country" and 2. they were so bloody expensive! Hafta declare anything that costs more than 10000￥ (roughly $100).

The immigrations form was fun. Fudged up my name. In pen. And somehow...the number MIki gave for her parents house is in a XXXX-XX-XXXX format so it didn't quite fit....I hope it's not wrong.

That would be my luck.

Oh, did I mention?

My birthday (Aug 11th) gift this year is visiting Mikiko in Japan!

And we're touching down very soon...

To Be Continued in Day One Part Two

Regards from Purgatory,

Monica