Sitting in Narita International Airport waiting for my flight in three hours to San Fran. I’m saddened that there won’t be a return trip to appreciate the amazing beauty of the Japanese women.
It was very hard walking out of work today. I nearly cried. I was an emotional wreck. I tried to say goodbye to everyone, but that didn’t work out. I still have an empty feeling in my stomach although that may be connected to my hunger. Just kiddin’.
I miss the guys and gals back in the Philippines already and I know I’m going to miss Quezon City more and more each day. I also know I’ve missed seeing Denver, The Rocky Mountains and the world around the city itself. I’m pumped to get back and live life again.
As for the fact that it seems like Asian airports (at least Manila and Narita) have this thing with using chaos and disorder as a manner to board the planes…that’s something entirely different. For me I’m used to it. I’ve made this long journey several times and have my best practices already in place. I’m wearing loose clothes and I have all my necessary docs bound together perfectly so I can merely flip them open and get through security. I have stored all my stuff in my pockets of the bags so all I need in my pants pockets are the wallet and cell phone.
The path from gate to gate is mapped in my mind. I’ve made the Ngoya trip (and Narita) enough that I know where to go and how to go. This time there is a difference. I’m flying into San Fransisco instead of Detroit. There’s were the trouble can begin. I know Detroit’s airport by now. I know where to go, what to do and how long it might take me. I know what line to take to avoid getting strip searched and walking around like I just got off a eight hour horse ride.
This is not the case with SF. The other trouble I’m told by my manager is the fog likes to play with planes and arrivals and departures like Denver changes weather. Meaning I could be delayed (oh the puns with my last name!) and have a little bit o’ rough time getting home. I’m not terribly worried. I’ve made it this far and survived. As long as I get back on US soil, I’m content with whatever you throw at me.
No more watermelons though. Those hurt.
So, the clock above reads 14 hours right now. I have two or so hours before this plane leaves. 9 hours until San Fran. And then three hours until Denver. That’s about 14 hours.
I do however need some sleep. I mistakenly offered my hand in marriage to a lady that I thought was Natalie Portman and was promptly slapped back to coach. It was a sad sad moment.
San Fran here we cooooome!
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