Thursday, May 15th

Aeroplane'd it for twelve hours halfway round the world. It wasn't as bad as expected, as the cabin was kept dark and the outside world was kept in a perpetual time-zone-fuckery-blazing-light-of-horrors-zone, so the plane became a sort of sensory depravation chamber. Sleeping got rid of some random hours here and there, Kamikaze Girls, Buckaroo Banzai and a shitty episode of Mythbusters (spoiler: the plane takes off) got rid of some too. So altogether, it was a blur of boredom that was immeasurable amount of time, neither long nor short.

But the ride would have been far more tolerable if we weren't sitting next to a Japanese man whom we would dub Halitosis-San (aka Haretoshisu-san.)

When you're being put into a sensory deprivation atmosphere, time is irrelevant, as there are no noteworthy events to mark the passage of time with. Haretoshisu was the only measure of time. Without fail, every 20 or so minutes, a wave of old man breath would assault the senses, leaving your nose a metaphorical quivering mass of jelly, begging for forgiveness, perhaps finding religion in this dire moment of its life.

Although my body enacted sweet vengeance, as I had to pee, like, a jillion times, and had to bother him to move every frickin time. I asked if maybe he wanted the window seat, but he spoke no english, and I, ironically, only know how to say "Where is the bathroom?" in Japanese.

Anyway, 12 hours passed and we landed, sleep-deprived, in Narita, a few trainstops outside of Shinjuku. I almost got sick as hell on the train for some reason... I think after a certain amount of hours in daylight, one's body starts getting mad, so it decided to give me hell and make me wanna puke for 20 minutes or so.

We made it to Shinjuku. Crowded, awesome, quirky, but ohgodi'mgonnadieineedfoodandsleeprightnowfuckfuckfuck. After getting lost, Michael found a map and took pictures which didn't correspond to each other, so we were still screwed. GG, kiddo. I'm pretty sure we guesstimated (oh fuck you blogger for saying "guesstimated" is a word. fuck you hard.) and ended up finding our hotel, conveniently next to a McDonald's.

Speaking of McDonalds, let me expound upon how badly we ate that day.

GROUND:
Breakfast: 2 Pilbury cinnamon buns at home

AIR:
Lunch: Airline steak and rice (which didn't suck at the time, but in hindsight, it was grotesque)
Lunchsnack: A horrible airline steak and cheese sandwich which I couldn't stomach.
Dinnersnack: Teriyaki chicken and rice, which was disgusting/Micheal had the cheddar omelet, which smelled damn nasty as well. But they also gave us a Milano cookie, so I slightly forgave Continental. I mean, it's a goddamn Milano. You could pretty much burn down my house and destroy all that is dear to me, but if you left a trail of Milano cookies in your wake, I'd look forward to seeing you again. Milano cookies are the ultimate "We fucked up. Here's a really nice thing." which will make you forget all wrongs.

This blogpost brought to you by Milano cookies.

GROUND:
Dinner: Michael had a McFilet..thing... and I had a chicken.. McThing... which was actually quite bad, and made me ponder how McDonald's can make chicken taste three entirely different ways, depending on what shape it was in. I nommed the french fries instead.

Then we promptly dropped dead at 6:30pm (5:30am in NY), barely realizing "oh fuck, we're in fucking Japan."