After booking my flight, anxiously awaiting my departure for adventure, the day finally arrived – an early morning flight from Toronto, then to New York for a three hour layover before boarding the last leg of the trip to Japan. Departing at 6:30 a.m., this would prove to be the longest day of my life, literally.
It all began at 2:30 a.m. – a one hour drive to Toronto International Airport in accordance with instructions to check-in a minimum three hours early. When I arrived fifteen minutes late, the ticket-wicket was not even open though there were a few of other ambitious passengers waiting. At four o’clock the airport attendants sauntered to the kiosks with sloth-like enthusiasm, ready to receive the restless line of travelers. With ‘everything yen‘ and no debit or credit accepted, some last minute repacking was required for a suitcase ten pounds too much. My pregnant suitcase soon conceived a carry-on and art box and my new family finally filed through. I could breathe a great sigh of relief – the only thing standing between me and my first flight was U.S. customs.
I am cheerful, friendly, unimposing with nothing to hide – how hard could U.S. customs be? I approached with an attitude of certainty, something like ‘I’m rubber, your glue, whatever you say will bounce off me and stick to you…’ I was in for a surprise! Let this be a warning for the weary traveller; if I am the superman of confidence, U.S. customs are kryptonite! I don’t know what they feed these guys, but there was no way to make this man smile, he barely seemed human.
“What is your business in the U.S.?” the man grunts.
I chirp back enthusiastically, “Oh, nothing – just passing through… Going to Japan, actually.”
“And what is your business in Japan?” he demands.
“No business, just a vacation”, I reply cheerfully.
“Why would you want to vacation in Japan?” he asks, unimpressed.
Okay, this is only the third question and already I’m feeling flustered! I need a reason to want to vacation in Japan? Who is this guy?
“I don’t know. I wanted to go somewhere different and far away, Japan is half way around the world!” I reply somewhat sarcastically, keenly aware I’m developing a defensive tone.
“You haven’t signed your passport!” he points out, this time really unimpressed!
Why did I have to overlook something so simple? “Oops!” I smile, trying to joke, “That’s kind of important, isn’t it?”
He’s clearly not liking my humour… But he overlooks the blunder. “How long are you going to be in Japan?” Good, an easy one!
“Three months”, sounding slightly more sure of myself.
“What are you gonna do for three months? You gonna work there?” He’s glaring at me like I’m on ‘America’s Most Wanted’ list, dissolving my smile. This is a trick question – no visa, no work!
“No, just a vacation.” I assure him convincingly.
“How much money you got?” This guy is not only intimidating, he’s rude and he doesn’t even speak proper English! I thought his job was to keep me out of the U.S., what business is it of his what I do in Japan? I’m so fed up I almost say that to him but think better of it.
Instead, I reply, quite plainly, “Enough.”
He glares at me again with unflinching eyes, surely hoping his stare will break me into some kind of confession. I hold my own, (barely) and his eyes return to my passport and boarding pass. He hands them back to me without saying a word. I wait for his next question. He says nothing, suspending me in limbo, completely ignoring me now. Finally, his eyes return to me and he looks at me as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’ Then, just as grumpily as his first greeting he yells “GO!” and shoos me away.
As pleased as I was to have the unpleasant customs experience behind me, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat sorry for the man. How awful it must be to spend an entire day without smiling; it was no wonder he was grumpy! The thought lasted for only a moment as I realized I would soon be boarding my first plane to Japan.
As my excitement mounted, so too did my luck. The first plane was only half full, giving me a seat to myself and another for my laptop and carry-on, making the short trip to New York an enjoyable and relaxing flight. After my three hour layover in the Big Apple, a ‘grande dark’ and a movie later, I was on my final flight to Japan. Once again, the flight was barely booked, this time giving me a widow and three seats to myself with plenty of room to relax and sleep. This set the stage for what would be a fabulous flight.
It was immediately clear I was on the right plane. I was greeted with a cheery ‘Konnichiwa!’ as I boarded and all announcements, instructions and safety procedures were in Japanese first, English second. My native tongue was no longer the language of choice. Excitement kept me awake, peering out the window to view the places I had never seen, flying first over New York, then Ontario, Northern Canada, Alaska, Russia and finally Japan. The most peculiar thing about the trip was the loss of a day. Not only would departing Ontario at 6:30 a.m. Monday mean that I would arrive in Japan 4:00 p.m. Tuesday, I would actually miss a day… I was literally moving forward in time! This happens frequently on flights as we pass through time zones but with a window seat to the world, I would also notice that the sun wouldn’t set. For me, the eighteen hours of travelling would feel like one long day, arriving at my destination before the first sunset since departure.
I was carrying a round trip ticket, a passport and laptop as I approached Japanese customs. Landing permission was something I would apparently get from the immigration officer, though thoughts from friends were now rolling around in my mind… ‘What will you do if they don’t let you in?’ – I dismissed it, no point worrying about that now. Besides, why wouldn’t they let me in? I may have laughed out loud as I remembered how confidence had served me in New York. Thankfully my reception in Japan was dramatically different. As I approached the officer, he spoke to me in Japanese which actually surprised me for a moment.
“Konnichiwa!” he said cheerfully, along with some other stuff that was way over my head. I guess I expected immigration officers would be bilingual and I look as Canadian as they come, yet his hand gesture clearly indicated he was waiting for my passport. I hand it over, open to my photo and I’m not even sure he looked at it! He flipped to a random page, stamped it and motioned for me to put my fingers into some contraption that was now sliding out of the desk in front of me. It was very ‘James Bond’, much like a thick CD player only it had two tabs where (judging by the comic style instructions) I was meant to place my two pointer fingers for prints. Then he waved to a camera which he controlled remotely and captured my mug.
“Arigato gozaimasu!” he exclaimed, motioning me through.
I could hardly believe how easy it was. Night and day from my experience in New York! If this was going to be an example of comparisons I would find between American and Japanese attitudes, it was going to be a great vacation! I made my way to baggage claim, collected my family of luggage and headed to customs. Although part of me thought this might be more difficult, the man was only interested in my curious art box and asked me to open it. As I lifted the lid, he clearly understood what it was and his tone changed emphatically. He spoke English too, though not perfectly, “Ah… You artist!! Great! Welcome to Japan!”
With that the man bowed, beaming smiles. I was very thankful for the warm reception as I returned the gesture and entered the vast lobby of Narita International Airport. I felt as if I were being welcomed, standing in the warmth of the late afternoon sun still streaming through the airport windows. It was almost as though it had deliberately delayed its decent for me, for this moment. I was finally a free man, now standing in Japan!
