It was not the smoothest of trips, but it wasn't bad. I did a terrible job of emptying my pockets, so I got the full pat-down by the heroes who keep our airports safe. Since I didn't take some things out of my pockets, it seemed reasonable for them to assume that I was a potential terrorist, using my own children as cover. I also had four tubes of toothpaste in a carry-on bag. Fortunately, they caught that and threw them in the trash. I don't know about you, but I feel safer knowing that no one on the flight had a full tube of toothpaste.
"I demand that you fly this plane to Libya, or everyone here will soon have minty-fresh breath!"
It all felt like a punishment for not properly preparing to fly in a police state. Seriously, how much more secure are we with everyone getting their shoes run through the x-ray machine? And please, don't tell me that you feel more secure. You know what makes me feel secure? Cockpit doors that are sturdier than the lavatory doors. Remember, we have our shoes x-rayed because one idiot tried to smuggle a bomb in his shoes. And it didn't work, not even close. I was already emotionally exhausted, as well as physically tired. The annoyance you see here is what's left of my ire four days later. Sorry, five days. I forget that the trip itself takes an entire day.
Everything is amazing, and nobody is happy.
(Dang, that's Louis C.K. Sorry, but it's still funny even though he is a jerk.)
One good thing did happen in Kansas City International Airport: In packing, we had loaded up Maxine with a relatively big, blue, fabric suitcase to use as a carry-on bag. It was heavy, because it had a lot of her books in it (that's my girl!), and she added some notebooks to bring back as presents for friends (that's Mommy's girl! I don't bring back crap for my friends!), making it even heavier. I figured it was still way cheaper then shipping it all, and was prepared to carry it myself. Then, while we were waiting to board, they announced that the plane was overbooked, and that there would be trouble fitting everything in the overhead compartments and under seats. They offered to check a bag if we wished, all the way to our destination. Complimentary! So we shuffled her important stuff into her backpack (which was in the blue suitcase), moved some stuff from Quinten and my carry-ons as well, and checked it through! Bada-bing bada-bang bada-boom! We dropped at least 15 pounds of carry-on stuff! That would have cost us like $200 to check!
I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to step aside for a body-cavity search. You just used the word "boom," which is a sound we expect from terrorists. Please come this way, and do not resist.
Everything is amazing, and nobody is happy.
(Dang, that's Louis C.K. Sorry, but it's still funny even though he is a jerk.)
One good thing did happen in Kansas City International Airport: In packing, we had loaded up Maxine with a relatively big, blue, fabric suitcase to use as a carry-on bag. It was heavy, because it had a lot of her books in it (that's my girl!), and she added some notebooks to bring back as presents for friends (that's Mommy's girl! I don't bring back crap for my friends!), making it even heavier. I figured it was still way cheaper then shipping it all, and was prepared to carry it myself. Then, while we were waiting to board, they announced that the plane was overbooked, and that there would be trouble fitting everything in the overhead compartments and under seats. They offered to check a bag if we wished, all the way to our destination. Complimentary! So we shuffled her important stuff into her backpack (which was in the blue suitcase), moved some stuff from Quinten and my carry-ons as well, and checked it through! Bada-bing bada-bang bada-boom! We dropped at least 15 pounds of carry-on stuff! That would have cost us like $200 to check!
I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to step aside for a body-cavity search. You just used the word "boom," which is a sound we expect from terrorists. Please come this way, and do not resist.
Once we got on the plane, everything was fine. Except that there was a problem with the fueling truck, so they had to bring over another fueling truck. So we left a little late, maybe 15 minutes. They made it up by giving us an extra snack and asking us to all hold our breath so the plane would be lighter. Apparently it worked, because we arrived close to our scheduled time.
They did not ask us to hold our breaths. That would be silly. And they also did not give us anything extra. That would be intruding on the profit margin, which is even more silly.
They did not ask us to hold our breaths. That would be silly. And they also did not give us anything extra. That would be intruding on the profit margin, which is even more silly.
We had no problem making our flight from Chicago to Tokyo. It was a long walk to our gate, but at least we didn't have to carry as much stuff. I mean, we were all carrying our bags, coats and jackets, but we got to use a restroom on the ground, and smell airport food. #blessed. The flight itself was fine. We landed in Chicago at the time they started boarding our next flight, and we were almost the last passengers to board, but we made it. In hindsight, it would have been very nice if the airport staff had offered us a ride on one of their golf-carts, but at least I can rest assured that no one there had a full tube of toothpaste.
The flight from Chicago to Tokyo was about 12 hours. Half a day. It is absolutely amazing that we can cross to the other side of the world in such a short time. One hundred years ago it would have seemed like a miracle. A hundred years from now it will either seem tediously slow or just one of those stories old people tell around the hearth about how things used to be right before they start crying and yelling, "You blew it up, you b***ards!"
You know you've been travelling too long when the ending of Planet of the Apes starts to look more like a sunny day at the beach than a post-apocalyptic vision.
As usual, the last flight is the most painful. We arrive in Japan feeling like we should be home, but there one more flight waiting, just two and a half hours, and a couple of hours in the Tokyo airport. That's a long four and a half hours, even though it takes about 40 minutes to get from our arrival gate to our departure gate. And during that time, I hear our names being paged. I go look into it, and they tell me that something in our luggage looks like a gun. They will want to open one of my suitcases with me, just to be sure. I'm thinking it's probably Quinten's bug-catching gun, a chunk of plastic that is suspiciously shaped like a futuristic ray gun.
Sure. Whatever. I haven't slept more than 4 hours in the last 40 hours, I'm an emotional mess after leaving my parents behind, I'm exuding a funk that has me hallucinating, and I'm an American. But you want me to be there when you open the suitcase that might have a gun in it? What could possibly go wrong? Just in case, you all should prepare to be shrunk, or frozen, or turned into newts.
It is the euphonium. They have a musical instrument case the size of a bassinet, and they want to make sure that I'm not smuggling a gun in it. Oddly enough, at the American airports the subject never even came up. Because flying around with a gun is fine, but
leave the m****r-f*****g toothpaste at home!
Sorry. I'm still pissed that I had to throw away almost four full tubes of toothpaste, and I can't even blame it on Trump because America has been buying into this ridiculous crap since 9/11.
By the way, you are welcome to disagree with me on this, but unless you can point towards a legitimate source showing that the TSA has stopped anything significant, I'm going to just suggest that you write about it on your own blog.
So the last flight is painful. Night is falling, and I feel that I am, too. My eyes are getting that gritty feeling, like I've been in the desert a couple of days with nothing to drink buy my own urine. My wrists and ankles hurt, my hands and feet are still swollen from the previous flight. When we got on the plane I start watching a movie. (It is my 7th on this trip, "The Greatest Showman" because I don't feel like I need to pay close attention to it and the music will keep me awake.) Thirty minutes into the movie I look out the window (from the center section of seats) and am surprised to see big, clear lights. I think, "Oh my, we shouldn't be that close to the ground! Maybe it's a reflection of a light inside the plane?" Then I realize that we have not yet taken off. We end up taking off 45 minutes late.
Thirty minutes into the flight: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We had some technical problem before taking off. We thought we had it fixed, but after testing we found that it wasn't. So we fixed it again, and that's why we left so late. But everything seems okay now. Thank you for your patience."
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the politeness and honesty. But the timing was a bit disturbing. And I will chalk up the use of "seems okay" to a translation slip. I'm sure he meant that "everything is absolutely okay and this airplane is working perfectly."
Seriously. Translating is hard. I mean, it seems to be hard.
We arrived in Korea and cleared customs and immigration with no problems. From getting off the plane to getting our bags was less than 30 minutes, then we were out, euphonium cannon, non-minty-fresh-breath, bags and all. Horyon was waiting for us right outside, and I was the same emotional mess that I was when we arrived in Kansas City a month earlier: happy/sad/exhausted/relieved.
Please be careful while deplaning as your emotional baggage may have shifted during the flight.
And don't even THINK of bringing a full tube of toothpaste!
As usual, the last flight is the most painful. We arrive in Japan feeling like we should be home, but there one more flight waiting, just two and a half hours, and a couple of hours in the Tokyo airport. That's a long four and a half hours, even though it takes about 40 minutes to get from our arrival gate to our departure gate. And during that time, I hear our names being paged. I go look into it, and they tell me that something in our luggage looks like a gun. They will want to open one of my suitcases with me, just to be sure. I'm thinking it's probably Quinten's bug-catching gun, a chunk of plastic that is suspiciously shaped like a futuristic ray gun.
Sure. Whatever. I haven't slept more than 4 hours in the last 40 hours, I'm an emotional mess after leaving my parents behind, I'm exuding a funk that has me hallucinating, and I'm an American. But you want me to be there when you open the suitcase that might have a gun in it? What could possibly go wrong? Just in case, you all should prepare to be shrunk, or frozen, or turned into newts.
It is the euphonium. They have a musical instrument case the size of a bassinet, and they want to make sure that I'm not smuggling a gun in it. Oddly enough, at the American airports the subject never even came up. Because flying around with a gun is fine, but
leave the m****r-f*****g toothpaste at home!
Sorry. I'm still pissed that I had to throw away almost four full tubes of toothpaste, and I can't even blame it on Trump because America has been buying into this ridiculous crap since 9/11.
By the way, you are welcome to disagree with me on this, but unless you can point towards a legitimate source showing that the TSA has stopped anything significant, I'm going to just suggest that you write about it on your own blog.
So the last flight is painful. Night is falling, and I feel that I am, too. My eyes are getting that gritty feeling, like I've been in the desert a couple of days with nothing to drink buy my own urine. My wrists and ankles hurt, my hands and feet are still swollen from the previous flight. When we got on the plane I start watching a movie. (It is my 7th on this trip, "The Greatest Showman" because I don't feel like I need to pay close attention to it and the music will keep me awake.) Thirty minutes into the movie I look out the window (from the center section of seats) and am surprised to see big, clear lights. I think, "Oh my, we shouldn't be that close to the ground! Maybe it's a reflection of a light inside the plane?" Then I realize that we have not yet taken off. We end up taking off 45 minutes late.
Thirty minutes into the flight: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We had some technical problem before taking off. We thought we had it fixed, but after testing we found that it wasn't. So we fixed it again, and that's why we left so late. But everything seems okay now. Thank you for your patience."
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the politeness and honesty. But the timing was a bit disturbing. And I will chalk up the use of "seems okay" to a translation slip. I'm sure he meant that "everything is absolutely okay and this airplane is working perfectly."
Seriously. Translating is hard. I mean, it seems to be hard.
We arrived in Korea and cleared customs and immigration with no problems. From getting off the plane to getting our bags was less than 30 minutes, then we were out, euphonium cannon, non-minty-fresh-breath, bags and all. Horyon was waiting for us right outside, and I was the same emotional mess that I was when we arrived in Kansas City a month earlier: happy/sad/exhausted/relieved.
Please be careful while deplaning as your emotional baggage may have shifted during the flight.
And don't even THINK of bringing a full tube of toothpaste!
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