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June 24, 2005
Tokyo-bound
An early start this morning. No, really.
We got up at 4am, stumbling, grumbling and occasionally swearing. Shower, medicine. Dress. Get the kid up. Shove the bags outside the door for the bellhop. Cram the bathroom kit into the carryons, and strap up. One last check through the room for any valuables, and we're out the door and down the hall at 5am, still barely awake.
Downstairs, we face the prospect of one last bus ride. The drivers have loaded our checked bags, so adults, kids and babies stumble into the metal tube for the hour ride to the airport. The White Swan graciously provided breakfast boxes, so we share juice, banana, chocolate chip muffins and assorted other breakfast sundries.
Fifty minutes later, we roll into White Cloud airport. At 6am, the air is already slightly muggy, and we all retrieve our bags quickly, loading them onto dollies for the long trip through security. The line of weary Americans straggles into the airport. Our first stop is the ticketing counter. Then it's on to a long line at the baggage station. The first line -- the one where we're told our two extra bags will cost us 40 yuan each. I pause, thinking that it's stupid to have to pay for baggage leaving the country, and also that that's not how I understood the rules.
Then I remember where I am, and that 80 yuan is all of 10 bucks. "Screw it," I think, and grumpily toss the bills over the counter. Our bags are wrapped with nylon ties for security. Tight nylon ties, which makes me happy yet again that we brought the hardsider. The next line is longer, but less bothersome. The clerk checks our bags through with only a minor delay (thank you the first-class service line of Northwest Airlines). Then it's off down the hall to process out through immigration.
After a long walk, we stop and fill out the required exit cards. We processed out, and endured a mercifully brief wait at the gate during which we acquired a bit of Chinese chocolate candy and something approximating Starburst. There was a moment's regret that we hadn't made proper goodbyes to the group, most of whom were on a United flight to Hong Kong. But then we were on the plane and being served drinks in our first-class seats, and suddenly nothing else mattered much.
Until Emma kicked over a glass of orange juice, anyway. We cleaned up and repositioned, stowing as much of our gear as we could. Shortly after the plane lifted off, we were served a reasonably tasty egg concoction for breakfast, which Emma shared. The flight attendants were uniformly (no pun intended) sweet to Emma and Lara, which helped to make the flight pass quickly.
Five short hours later, we touched down in Tokyo at Narita.
We emerged from the plane onto the tarmac, and crowded onto a bus for the ride to the terminal. There, we were processed through the now familiar Japanese security and customs lines, complete with cute, beret-wearing, white-gloved girls directing traffic and young security officers who, despite their obvious authority, weren't gruff enough to radiate the requisite gravitas.
At the gate, I dashed into a store, searching quickly through the aisles for the treat I knew would be a hit with my exhausted wife. I squeezed past one tourist after another, looking, until I saw that red box shining like a beacon from the top shelf of the last aisle. Pocky! I quickly purchase four boxes -- two each of chocolate and strawberry, and made it back to the gate just in time to head down the jetway to the monstrous aircraft waiting on the tarmac.
We quickly found our seats and stowed our gear, settling into the immensely comfortable seats. I requested a bassinet, which the flight attendant provided for Emma to sleep in later. First class on Northwest may or may not be posh by comparison to other airlines -- I wouldn't know -- but by our standards it was absolute heaven. Privacy canopies on each seat. Footrests and ample legroom. Amenity kits that included sleep masks, earplugs and slippers. Food that, if it wasn't restaurant grade, was still a far cry from what the plebes in the cheap seats get. And attention, constant attention, from the crew (having Emma along helped with that).
I'd be lying if I told you that I remembered much of that flight. I really don't. I remember watching a couple of movies and playing Lumines. I remember trying, and largely failing, to sleep -- I have never been able to sleep on airplanes. I remember that dinner involved shrimp, and that I was able to order a drink or two, which helped a lot. I remember that Emma, though she did sleep, was not terribly enamored of the bassinet, and that the flight's purser presented our little trooper with a certificate for her first international flight (well, really it wasn't, that honor going to the Guangzhou-to-Narita flight, but what the heck). And I remember being very, very grateful to Lara's grandfather, whose generosity had made the comfortable seats and good food possible.
After eleven hours of sheer bliss, we arrived in Detroit. Never in my life did I think I'd be glad to see Detroit, but glad I was. We said goodbye to the flight crew, thanking them profusely for taking such good care of us, and trundled up the jetway. At the head of the concourse, we found Northwest's first-class lounge, where we settled in for our two-hour layover. After getting Lara and Emma ensconced in a corner and availing myself of the free drinks, I ventured to the back of the lounge for a shower in the private bathroom. Afterward, in the same rumpled clothes, but feeling much relaxed, I rejoined my little family, hooking up the laptop to the wireless network for a little surfing time and trying to avoid the endless flogging of the latest "cute blonde disappears in the Caribbean" story on the big-screen TV.
At the appointed time, with a somewhat cranky Emma in two, we made our way back down another concourse to the commuter jets. Boarding a small plane, we buckled up for our last flight. Mercifully, it was almost completely unremarkable. Emma behaved well, and in short order we discerned the familiar landscape of Charlotte under our wings.
I can't say either of us have ever been as happy to return home as we were that day, and we probably never will be again. But home we were. As we descended the escalator to the baggage claim, our family appeared below, gathered to welcome us. Parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, all there to see us back with our new treasure. Our joy in the moment was simply inexpressible.
We stood and chatted until the baggage arrived, whereupon we piled into Mr. Butler's Lincoln for the ride home, promising to visit everyone else just as soon as we recovered. On the way, we stopped for dinner at Bojangle's, relishing as never before the taste of biscuits, fried chicken and green beans. Even Emma seemed to enjoy that particular style of cuisine, plowing heartily through an entire container of mashed potatoes, and wolfing down anything that got near her face.
And then we were truly home. Home with our cats, and our neighbors and our dog, and our new daughter. Home to reinvent the life we'd built together over the last 10 years, not starting over, but certainly starting afresh.
There our travel tale ends. Thanks to everyone who has followed along thus far. You may expect updates as Emma grows (starting tomorrow, in fact...we have lots of news).
We want to thank our families for being so incredibly supportive of us as we made this journey. We also want to thank the other families in our group, especially the Soohoos, the O'Rourke's, the Fischers, Jeff Fried and Eve Berne, Albert Reedy and Pam Marshall, as well as our guides Rose, Connie and Betty. We wouldn't have made it through without all of you. It truly does take a village.
Posted by brlittle at June 24, 2005 11:36 AM