CLEANING OUT THE NOTEBOOK

Note: I was going through some old files on my laptop when I found this. I wrote it while flying from Los Angeles (where I lived at the time) to Singapore, changing planes in Tokyo. The SARS epidemic was in full swing and we got tickets for $250-round trip. I will brag about that until the day I die. But once we found our way onto the plane, we discovered another crippling illness, plane-induced insanity. A document of that illness can be found below.

July 25 or perhaps July 26, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean.

I have no idea quite what day it is now. We may have crossed the international date line, but I don't know because we're flying in one of those stone age 747s with 2 bathrooms, no legroom, and no readout that tells you just where you are over the ocean. Quite frankly, this plane is probably better suited for display at Colonial Williamsburg than regular passenger service.

Most long trips like this start the same. I get very, very excited and count down the days until I leave, getting more and more frantic as the time gets short. As we drive to the airport, I'll be bouncing around in the car like I'm a four year-old who's just been told he's going to McDonald's. We'll check in and I'll get on the plane and be almost screaming with joy.

I have seen our plane take off many times before. I drop Julie off at the airport on a fairly regular basis, and I'll see that Northwest Airlines 747 getting ready to take off and I think to myself (or say out loud of Julie is unlucky enough to be in the car), "Hey, there's a whole plane load of people going to Tokyo! The next time they touch the ground, they'll be in Japan! Isn't that cool?" That concept amuses me to no end.

As we were taking off, I look out the window and realize that I am no longer that guy in the car looking at 300 people going to Japan, I am one of the people actually going to Japan! Yahoo! I'm cool! Look at me! Then the plane takes off. Then I notice how little leg room I've got. Then I realize the in-flight movies are "Miss Congeniality" and "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days." Then it sets in. Aw crap, I'm stuck in this chair for 10 hours.

So the time drags and you read for as long as you can and you pee a few times and think you've consumed most of the flight time. Then you check your watch and realize you've got 5 hours do go. Damn.

The way this flight works, we left LA at about 2 in the afternoon on Friday, and we'll arrive in Tokyo at about 5 PM on Saturday. It sounds jarring, but it's really not that bad. It just feels like one really long day. You leave in early afternoon, and ten hours later it's early evening. I can handle that. That's how time worked when I was in the fourth grade. But the meal service on this plane seems tailor made to induce jet lag. An hour after take off, they feed us lunch. It's 3 PM in LA and 6 AM in Tokyo. Either way, it's no time for lunch. Then, an hour before we land, we get (wait for it) breakfast. Soon after that, we get off the plane and it's 5 PM.

What's a body to make of that? They should at least try to trick your body by making announcements like, "Hey everybody, it's breakfast anytime! We're like a big, flying Denny's! We're serving you some breakfast, but it's your choice. You didn't want the grilled cheese. You wanted breakfast in the afternoon, right?" Come on, at least make a show of it.

The "Greatest Hits of the 80s" audio program has repeated 3 times now. Ministry's "Work for Love" is playing.

I Just looked in the in-flight magazine and discovered that the movie on our next flight (Tokyo to Singapore) is "Maid in Manhattan." It is clear that God is punishing me for something.


Saturday, July 26, Location Unknown

I have officially lost the will to live. It is 5 AM back in LA and we're still a good four and a half hours from our destination.

We spent about two hours in Tokyo's Narita Airport, arguably one of the dullest airports in the world. I thought it would be a brief introduction to the fast paced Japanese culture. Instead we found an ugly airport with nowhere to eat and no good newsstands. I understand Tokyo has another airport and I'm sure it's exciting. (note: I've since learned this is not the case) Perhaps we found Japan's answer to Gatwick.

Now we're somewhere off the coast of China, probably near Taiwann.

With the nonexistent eating scene in Narita, I really haven't had a decent meal in 20 hours, and that's assuming you consider a soft pretzel and Pepsi a decent meal. Every couple of hours, Northwest flight attendants bring little trays of inedible food around, and I stare at it for about 20 minutes and then the flight attendant picks it up again.

The only good news is the Pepsi. It's a regular United Nations of Pepsi up here. While some of the Pepsi is the nasty corn syrup-based swill you get in the US, one flight attendant has a stash of Pepsi from the Philippines, which features real sugar of southeastern Asian origin. The result is a lighter, crisper, tastier medium for caffeine intake.

With the lack of nutrition, my body is going into hibernate mode. With each minute that passes, I can feel myself getting dumber, but sadly, not so dumb that I'm interested in watching "How to Lose a Man in 10 Days."

I can't think. I'm pretty much past reading, and it's even too much effort to put on the headphones to see what they're talking about on the TV screen a few rows up. I'll just look at the pictures and the faces. I'm also working on an experiment that will answer this age old question: if you concentrate on the subject long enough, can you actually cease to exist? So far, no luck.

They've just started "Maid in Manhattan." Oh sweet death, come quickly.