I had chosen the window seat, for the view, you see. Of course, the
window was at least foot past my chair, meaning I had to
bend forward whenever I actually wanted to look out of the window. I
was squished against the wall, with two other people next to me. The
man on the aisle never spoke during the thirteen hour ordeal, but then
again, he didn't have to. Over the course of the flight, it was like
watching a zombie outbreak occur in the plane. That only left the girl
in the middle, Yuna.
I'll break down the flight with an easy to understand ratio. As it gets increasing more awkward between Yuna and myself, the rest of the plane slowly succumbs to the rage virus or some kind of mobile bird flu of some sort.
Yuna: Getting to know each other.
Man on the aisle: Healthy
The girl next to me was named Yuna Kanai. She had just finished a study abroad over in America and was finally being shipped back to Japan. We made small talk at first, listed our universities and why we were on the plane. It was then that Yuna (the first of many people) asked me why I was going to Japan. After mumbling through an answer, she gave me some great advice.
"Don't go to Japan. It's boring. You should stay in America"
Off to a great start.
Yuna and I: Reading teenage girl fashion magazines (awkward)
Man on the aisle: Has a blanket wrapped up to his neck
Yuna then asked me if I could read Japanese. I told her I had only studied the language for about eight weeks. This was apparently code for, "hey let me test you by reading this teenage girl magazine! That's all in Japanese!" As I miserably tried to make my way through the magazine, Yuna stared at me with wonder, as if I was some kind of animal that had lumbered its way onto the plane. She then asked me, "Do you like Japanese women? Do you think they hot?"
Yuna and I: Having a conversation about my tastes in Asian women...while I'm talking to an Asian woman.
Man on the aisle: Has a sleep mask on, the blanket around his neck, and is beginning to cough.
I was dumbfounded at her question. Regaining my composure, I told her, "I love all kinds of women. Problem is, they don't really dig me." She shook her head knowingly and told me, "I don't like Japanese men. They're too small and skinny." It was at this point that she eyed me up and then said, "I like bigger guys. I like American guys." She smiled at me. Which leads me to...
Yuna and I: No longer talking but in the midst of some kind of verbal non-romantic/romantic tango (and I only do the robot).
Man on the aisle: Blanket, check. Sleep mask, check. Surgical face mask, check. Wait, what?
The whole plane was like the man on the aisle. Most were bundled up in some kind of comatose state, with every orifice covered. Yuna and I were, well, I'm not quite sure of what was going on. What bothered me was, at this point in my trip It looked like Gray was right about my superstar sexual idol status in Japan. I was going to be worshiped, have golden statues built in my name, the works.
Yuna got up to stretch her legs and I decided to dodge the awkward bullet my watching a wonderful in-flight movie. My choices were: Terminator Salvation (pretty bad), Night at the Museum 2 (surprisingly good, the first two and a half times...), Angels and Demons (blandy Mcbland bland), and X-Men Origins: Wolverine (horrible). I put on Night at the Museum and pretended to be deeply engrossed by the moving storyline and pretty decent jokes, mixed with great acting and--SPONSORED BY 20TH CENTURY FOX AND MOUNTAIN DEW! DEW THE DEW!
Ahem, let's continue.
Yuna and I: watching mediocre movies to avoid conversation
Man on the aisle: Died and came back to life as zombie. He took a bite out of a flight attendant. I was forced to use my plastic butter knife to pierce his skull.
Eventually, Yuna and I stopped talking altogether. I made some kind of halfhearted attempt to keep up the conversation, but her once lusty eyes turned the color of custard apathy. I was trying to make some kind of food analogy, but that didn't work out, did it?
We exchanged information and made the dullest of non-friend promises, to facebook each other (which we have since done). Oh, and during the second half of the flight, the man next to me bit me (maybe) and I developed a pretty horrendous migraine. Either way, sleeping on a plane is like mixing Nyquil, Dayquil, Pop Rocks, Mentos, and Coke all together. I spent most of it in some kind of feverish dream state, waking up every eleven minutes to find Yuna starting at me with evil glee (okay she didn't but it makes for a more interesting blog entry).
When the plane landed, Yuna left without saying anything. I watched as she grabbed her carry on and march off the plane. Gray was only a few people away from her and I found it funny that these two people that had both shared parts of themselves with me were so close to each other, and yet had no idea of their shared connection. Neither traveler said goodbye when they left, and in a way, that made me feel an old loneliness: the brevity and anonymity of being a true traveler. These people, these memories were fleeting, passing by quickly and without meaning, unless I assigned some meaning to them.
Obviously, I did. Gray and Yuna were two sides of a coin. Gray, the womanizer who only loved Asian women, and Yuna, who found Japanese men undesirable and longed to return to America and it's men. Each was in a place they didn't belong, for one reason or another, and I knew that neither one of them might end up where they wanted.
I wondered where it was that I was going to end up, and if I would be happy when I arrived. With these thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, I eased into the hard back, plastic chair and waited in the Narita Airport Terminal in Tokyo and waited for my final flight to Osaka to board.
I'll break down the flight with an easy to understand ratio. As it gets increasing more awkward between Yuna and myself, the rest of the plane slowly succumbs to the rage virus or some kind of mobile bird flu of some sort.
Yuna: Getting to know each other.
Man on the aisle: Healthy
The girl next to me was named Yuna Kanai. She had just finished a study abroad over in America and was finally being shipped back to Japan. We made small talk at first, listed our universities and why we were on the plane. It was then that Yuna (the first of many people) asked me why I was going to Japan. After mumbling through an answer, she gave me some great advice.
"Don't go to Japan. It's boring. You should stay in America"
Off to a great start.
Yuna and I: Reading teenage girl fashion magazines (awkward)
Man on the aisle: Has a blanket wrapped up to his neck
Yuna then asked me if I could read Japanese. I told her I had only studied the language for about eight weeks. This was apparently code for, "hey let me test you by reading this teenage girl magazine! That's all in Japanese!" As I miserably tried to make my way through the magazine, Yuna stared at me with wonder, as if I was some kind of animal that had lumbered its way onto the plane. She then asked me, "Do you like Japanese women? Do you think they hot?"
Yuna and I: Having a conversation about my tastes in Asian women...while I'm talking to an Asian woman.
Man on the aisle: Has a sleep mask on, the blanket around his neck, and is beginning to cough.
I was dumbfounded at her question. Regaining my composure, I told her, "I love all kinds of women. Problem is, they don't really dig me." She shook her head knowingly and told me, "I don't like Japanese men. They're too small and skinny." It was at this point that she eyed me up and then said, "I like bigger guys. I like American guys." She smiled at me. Which leads me to...
Yuna and I: No longer talking but in the midst of some kind of verbal non-romantic/romantic tango (and I only do the robot).
Man on the aisle: Blanket, check. Sleep mask, check. Surgical face mask, check. Wait, what?
The whole plane was like the man on the aisle. Most were bundled up in some kind of comatose state, with every orifice covered. Yuna and I were, well, I'm not quite sure of what was going on. What bothered me was, at this point in my trip It looked like Gray was right about my superstar sexual idol status in Japan. I was going to be worshiped, have golden statues built in my name, the works.
Yuna got up to stretch her legs and I decided to dodge the awkward bullet my watching a wonderful in-flight movie. My choices were: Terminator Salvation (pretty bad), Night at the Museum 2 (surprisingly good, the first two and a half times...), Angels and Demons (blandy Mcbland bland), and X-Men Origins: Wolverine (horrible). I put on Night at the Museum and pretended to be deeply engrossed by the moving storyline and pretty decent jokes, mixed with great acting and--SPONSORED BY 20TH CENTURY FOX AND MOUNTAIN DEW! DEW THE DEW!
Ahem, let's continue.
Yuna and I: watching mediocre movies to avoid conversation
Man on the aisle: Died and came back to life as zombie. He took a bite out of a flight attendant. I was forced to use my plastic butter knife to pierce his skull.
Eventually, Yuna and I stopped talking altogether. I made some kind of halfhearted attempt to keep up the conversation, but her once lusty eyes turned the color of custard apathy. I was trying to make some kind of food analogy, but that didn't work out, did it?
We exchanged information and made the dullest of non-friend promises, to facebook each other (which we have since done). Oh, and during the second half of the flight, the man next to me bit me (maybe) and I developed a pretty horrendous migraine. Either way, sleeping on a plane is like mixing Nyquil, Dayquil, Pop Rocks, Mentos, and Coke all together. I spent most of it in some kind of feverish dream state, waking up every eleven minutes to find Yuna starting at me with evil glee (okay she didn't but it makes for a more interesting blog entry).
When the plane landed, Yuna left without saying anything. I watched as she grabbed her carry on and march off the plane. Gray was only a few people away from her and I found it funny that these two people that had both shared parts of themselves with me were so close to each other, and yet had no idea of their shared connection. Neither traveler said goodbye when they left, and in a way, that made me feel an old loneliness: the brevity and anonymity of being a true traveler. These people, these memories were fleeting, passing by quickly and without meaning, unless I assigned some meaning to them.
Obviously, I did. Gray and Yuna were two sides of a coin. Gray, the womanizer who only loved Asian women, and Yuna, who found Japanese men undesirable and longed to return to America and it's men. Each was in a place they didn't belong, for one reason or another, and I knew that neither one of them might end up where they wanted.
I wondered where it was that I was going to end up, and if I would be happy when I arrived. With these thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, I eased into the hard back, plastic chair and waited in the Narita Airport Terminal in Tokyo and waited for my final flight to Osaka to board.
...& then you realized we're all creatures derided by vanity.
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