That thing is a monster. We wandered around its stations for miles when we first arrived, and we wandered around, hardly better oriented, just before we left.
Clusterf*s aside, Jay is in no position to critique my choice of words: if you didn't know better, you'd think you were conversing with a fourteen-year old girl. She, he, would direct you to "the hotness, over there," and describe Nikko's spring festival floats as "tragic." I did my best to avoid taking on his speech habits, with limited success. I also failed to avoid letting Jay's eating habits influence mine. I'm not sure when I ever ate so much crap. But more about food later; there's more to say on the matter of our discourse during the trip, which was influenced by the in-flight entertainment on the way over. It was a long-@$$ flight; I watched four films and two episodes each of "30 Rock" and "The Office." Coincidentally, all four of us watched "The Fantastic Mr. Fox," in which the characters imply expletives by replacing them with the word "cuss." As in, "what a clustercuss!" and "what the cuss?" This became our MO throughout the trip. Was it Akihabara that Jay described as a total mindcuss, or elaborate plastic food, or both? I used the 'mindcuss' to refer to the Japanese language (what's the deal with those particles??) Just a few moments ago, I thought to myself, "what the cuss possessed me to take so many pictures of trees??"
As for the two episodes of "The Office," they had the unfortunate effect of sticking "that's what she said" in the back of my mind, to be easily--no, inevitably--retrieved the next morning, on our way to the fish market, when Jay purchased a can of coffee from a vending machine (our first of the trip!) and said, "it's hot! do you want to hold it?"
Vending machine appeals to our gutter minds (see coffee descriptions) What was a girl who'd just watched two episodes of "The Office" to say in response, I ask you?? Little did I know that I'd established a precedent. More of a competition, actually; there were some prize-winners, though they're not suitable for a family blog. I reproached Jay for that, told him I hated it when he said cuss too vulgar for the blog but so funny that I resented not being able to share it with you. If it makes you feel any better, there were some duds, too--at one point, we were practically throwing out TWSSs as shots in the dark, hoping one might stick. We were also reproaching him for TWSSing himself.
The vending machine that started it all was also the start of another habit, i.e. addiction. Jay would brake for them, even develop an entire ranking system (I had my own ranking system-- for convenience stores). Often, he'd get a green tea that he found lacking, so he would hand it off to me and try for another one; or I'd get coffee with milk and or/sugar in it, and hand it off to him, and try for another one; so there one or both of us would be, walking down the street, double-fisted.
I'll tell you all about the trip soon. For now, I'd best go back to cleaning up the gazillion pictures I took (mostly--I cuss you not--of trees).
***
Jay and I got into Tokyo on a Friday evening, about half an hour apart, and had decided earlier it would be best not to wait for Richard and Susan, who would get in hours later. We crossed the bustling airport--what a contrast from the very subdued National I arrived home to the other night--in search of the train that would take us into the city. As we headed toward the counter, a policeman, clipboard in tow, approached and asked to see our passports and take down our personal information. Really? Because Immigration hadn't already noted it? Who am I to critique an employment program... but find some that don't snare wary travelers.
We'd stopped to get cash, but the ATMs downstairs didn't take my card, so we headed upstairs to find a Citibank ATM (and Citi still charged me a 3% fee, even though it was a Citi card and machine). When we came back down, another clipboard-wielding officer asked for our passports. We said we'd already done this, and I think he understood, because he tried to speed up the process. Jay provided his info and then went over to get our tickets. This time around, the officer asked for phone numbers (after Jay had left), but appeared nonplussed (Jay's favorite word!) when I provided mine. So I got to use a handful of the few useful Japanese words I knew. The officer was very excited. Unfortunately, I'd get to use numbers again in Takayama, where we'd report Jay's Blackberry lost or stolen. That police officer was more excited about Jay's being from Boston; he kept asking him about the Red Sox and Jim Rice.
Anyway, tickets in hand, we headed into town. We'd missed the worst of rush hour, but it's never really not rush hour in Tokyo. We caught up on the way.
Jay: Do you want this copy of Details?
A.: Who's that? Why does he look familiar?
Jay: Sam Worthington!
A.: Have I seen him on the Daily Show?
Jay: Probably. He was in "Avatar."
A.: I just watched that on the way... who was he?
Jay: The main character.
A.: Oh. That movie was BAD.
Jay. Yeah.
[Pause]
Jay: So, I was checking out your butt (as I do), and I don't know what your mom is talking about--you're so not fat!
A.: Why thank you. You're looking slim, yourself.
Jay: So, fish market tomorrow?
A.: Sure.
We got to planning, until neurosis got the better of me.
A.: What we're doing tomorrow is all well and good, but getting back to the topic of my butt--you know, I still don't fit into old clothes, but I think it's a shape thing--I've more muscle. I maintain that it's more important that one's butt hold its own against an SUV than fit into smaller sizes.
Jay: [Yawn] Fair enough.
The train pulled into Ueno, played its "wake up! we're there" music. Ueno was madness. We thought about stopping--we were starving--but didn't want to lug our stuff around. After some walking around in circles inside the station's passageways, we found the way to the Yamanote line, which got us to Shimbashi. We thought we were there! Except that we had a good half-mile of underground passageways to sort through before we found Shiodome. It was "exit 10." On the way, Jay said multiple times something he would throughout our séjour in Tokyo:
Jay: This is so "Bladerunner"!
A.: What's Bladerunner?
Jay: [Sigh.]
On our way through the underpass to the hotel, we passed some appealing food options, which gave me (false) hope. They were all closed by the time we reemerged, so we wandered around aimlessly, eventually settling for 7-Eleven. Except we never found it--Jay's then-Blackberry, of which it pains me to speak ill, had us running around in circles looking for that 7-Eleven--so we settled for its tragic cousin, AM/PM.
But first we arrived at our hotel, which was beautiful. I'm not sure how or why we got it for such a reasonable price. We checked in, headed upstairs. As I started unpacking, I heard hysterical laughter from the bathroom.
Jay: You have to see this.
A.: Okay...
I stepped into the bathroom and soon joined in the hysterical laughter, for a good five minutes.
The picture is actually from the train station in Gero, but you get the point.
The toilet had *instructions.* And safeguards, complete with diagrams. And all sorts of buttons.
A.: WTF??
Jay: I don't know.
Eventually, we figured out how to use it. The most important button for me over the next few days was the one that would turn off the heated seat, which drove me up the wall. I don't think you could turn that one off--at least not in that first hotel--so I had to settle for keeping it at "low."
The beautiful hotel was out of twin rooms when we booked, so Jay and I had to share a bed. I sensed, as I tried to fall asleep, an incursion or two onto my territory, so we agreed to establish a demilitarized zone using the abundant pillows in the room. It only helped a little, and a pillowfight ensued. Eventually, the sheer exhaustion overcame the less-than-ideal sleeping conditions (including our lack of mastery of the room's climate control), and we got some sleep ahead of our trip to the fish market.
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1 comment:
You're finally back. Yay!
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