FLASHBACK: Land of the Rising Sun Vol. I

After a delightfully painful 13 hour flight where I was reacquainted
with the wonderful world of business class, I arrived in the New Tokyo
International Airport. Although I should have tried to sleep a little, I
was too engrossed with the multitude of movies playing and the seemingly
endless supply of food they were serving. At one point, after the 3
course dinner had been served, the dessert tray was rolled around and
the two stewardesses approached me with the spread. I settled on the
warm blueberry cobbler and when they offered me ice cream on top, I
replied with such excitement, "That would be great!" that they imitated
me in broken English, giggled, and then moved on. I took that as a sign
that I should probably stop eating and frying my brain watching tv and
started to read a book. (until the next movie started of course)

So, I disembark the plane, grateful to be able to stretch my legs, and
follow the crowd to the customs area. Standing in the Foreign Visitors'
line, I was comfortable surrounded by other Americans and Brits, little
did I know that that would be one of the last times I heard anyone speak
English for awhile. I suppose since I am Asian, it is understandable
that everyone would assume I spoke Japanese, but I sometimes wish I
could wear my passport around my neck rather than returning a blank
stare. Luckily, the two phrases I had burned into my memory were 'I do
not understand' and 'Do you speak English?' I guess my next phrase will
be 'Hello, I am not Japanese'.

Even though I followed Kendra's (my manager's) advice and hurried to the
bus stop as quickly as possible, I still missed my bus by about 20
minutes and had to wait an hour and 15 minutes for the next one. The
primary reason for any delay was waiting for my luggage in a sea of
identical black Samsonite suitcases and decoding Japanese ATM machines.
It was a bit disconcerting to withdraw currency with 5 zero's after the
number but after convincing myself that spending 100 yen was like a buck
back home, it was much easier.

At last my bus arrived and I was amazed that it pulled up exactly at
3:25 pm just as the LED sign indicated. The bus was very comfortable
but I was not looking forward to another 2 hour ride having just been on
my rear for a nonstop 13 hours. We made good time on the expressways
but once we pulled into the city proper, the motion sickness kicked in
as we weaved and turned up and down hills on these small local roads.
Just as I was about to break into a cold sweat, we arrived at my stop
and I hurried off the bus thankful to feel solid ground beneath my feet.

The last leg of my adventurous arrival in Tokyo would be to find my
apartment and check-in. As I struggle with my two man-size suitcases
looking for the elusive entrance to my apartment complex, I marvel at
the Yebisu Garden Place (and Sapporo Brewery). The center was amazing
and I could not help but think that New York would probably never have a
similar area. I would compare it to Rockefeller Center, minus the
hundreds of tourists, but with spotless tile floors and infused with the
proper 'zen' aesthetic.

I finally find the entrance to the front desk and am greeted by two
young Japanese women dressed meticulously in matching pink uniforms. I
tell them that I have a corporate apartment there and I work for Morgan
Stanley and they both looked at me with a peculiar look. In those few
seconds, I had flashbacks of spring breaks where they conveniently
'misplaced our reservation' or 'overbooked' and was on the verge of
sheer panic when they ask me if I am Su-san. With a sigh of relief,
they show me to my room where I am eagerly anticipating some time to relax.