Travel (Guam-Osaka-Okinawa)


This was a big day for me.


On my first international flight/exchange, I flew with my best buddy. We were able to navigate international barriers and travel together. There was no real stress and I enjoyed several beers both before and during our flights. I drank wine too, because it was free.

But this time, on this expedition, I was traveling alone. Social media, friendship, and comfortability would also go in the overhead compartment–respect that relevant emotive description.

I was to leave Guam, early in the morning, stop in Osaka, and then end in Okinawa (Japan). In terms of distance, it wasn’t an epic adventure. Let me explain why it was tough, but also while I loved it.

Guam is a US territory. Their airport isn’t tough to navigate, if you speak English. As I’ve noted before, people from Guam are nice, congenial AF (as f*ck).

My bag weighed 58 lbs. According to United Airlines protocol, that should be a $200 handler’s fee. The nice airline hostess watched me for a few minutes struggle aimlessly removing different articles of clothing and apparatus. Having accomplished nothing–moving a belt, two cotton undershirts, and a box of hair/beard dye (Just For Men) into my offhand–she gave a furtive glance around and then motioned for me to give her the bag. She made a gesture drenched in diplomacy, a look that said, “you’re an idiot, give me your bag, I’ll take care of this, leave.” People helping people.

It was early morning and I made quickly for my gate. Like I said, there was nothing difficult about this part of the travel. Aside from Asian tourists snapping pictures of airport water fountains, nothing amusing or noteworthy occurred. I got on the plane, went to sleep, and woke up in Japan.

Waking I took note of customs paperwork the stewardess must have left on my nuts while I slept. I grabbed those and grabbed my bag and left the plane.

Am I dumb for not realizing that I was going to have to pick my bags from the baggage claim in Osaka, take them through customs, then re-check them again in the domestic terminal before my final flight? Does that make me stupid, or thick, or both? Does it make me just another overtly attractive person traveling expecting others to do things for them? I’m not sure. Either way, I didn’t know that.

By happy accident, as I made it to the customs exit by following the brightest colored signs, I came across a quasi English speaking attendant. “You have no bag?” She inquired. I explained that my bags were going to Okinawa, my final destination. The attendant smiled, in kind fashion, walked with me to the baggage carousel, which I wouldn’t have found, and explained to the process to which I was unaware (see above). I grabbed my bags and then she jerked me off.

Obviously that last part didn’t happen. This was a more uneventful post, so I embellished (insert hand-job motion here). But, what’s important, is that through the aid of another, my travel was successful. I took my bags through customs, was directed toward the domestic terminal, rode the train for half an hour, then checked my bags again and made it to my gate–with time to spare.

Thoughts and observations from Osaka Airport include extreme cleanliness and English words above the bathrooms that say “Toilet”. Simple. I dig it.

The stewardess of ANA Airlines do it for me. They are special. Again, no English spoken, outside of a few rudimentary, gesture based words, like “thank you”, “drink”, “seat-belt”, or “adamant displeasure in President Trump and his foreign policies”. As it was in America back in the golden age of aerial travel, before trolls attended flight and computers flew our planes, in Japan the prime lady beef is up in the air. They were alabaster angels, and they were the best part of my travel.

There was a Starbucks next to my gate as I landed in Okinawa. I bought a black coffee for my shuttle to the hotel and the barista jerked me off.


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