We woke up slowly, then filled the large black duffle bag with anything that we couldn’t fit into the roller bag. We still had hopes of going to the Imperial Palace before we took our flight back to Los Angeles. We didn’t have to check out of the AirBnb until 10. It was close to 8:30, and we wouldn’t have much time to leave and come back. So we would pack up, then take our bags to a train station, which would give us the easiest access to the airport. We could hopefully put them in a locker for a few hours, while we toured the city one last time untethered.
After taking a shower, in the stinky shower stall, then once again bumping my head on the low hanging doorway one more time, we locked up the door, and headed down the rusty staircase one last time, before hitting the streets. While it was a Saturday, there was significantly less people out and about, than there were the night before. There were a lot of people out, but not as much as I expected. We took the Yamanote subway line from Shibuya Station to Tokyo Station, then started looking for lockers as soon as we arrived. There seemed to be banks of lockers placed in certain areas, but they all appeared to be full. As we looked on the directory for more lockers, we found on the map a luggage check near one of the banks of lockers. We walked to the other side of the train station, only to find that everyone else had the same idea. The line to check-in was at least 100 feet long. I couldn’t imagine that it would be worth standing in the line to check our bags, then wait in line to check out as well and still make our flight.
Elizabeth and I stood in the middle of the station as millions of commuters hurried passed us from all directions. What should we do? It was close to 11am and our flight to Los Angeles was taking off at 4:25pm. If we followed the 2-hour international flight rule, we would have to arrive at the airport at 2:25pm. This left us with a little less than 3 hours to make it tou a point of interest, explore that point and then make it to the airport. We could risk carrying our backs clumsily through the streets of Tokyo, then 45 minutes worth of subway travel time, not including transfer time, to the Imperial Palace. Then walk around it for 10 minutes, take a few photos, only to take a 45-minute train ride back to the station.
We decided that it was all pretty unrealistic and the amount of stress would outweigh the fun. While the Tokyo Imperial Palace had eluded us since our second day in Tokyo, when we were battling typhoon conditions, we did see a lot of amazing things in Japan. We had seen our share of ancient architecture and experienced more culture than we could’ve asked for. We knew that if we went back out into the city with our bags, that there was no way we were going to have the time that we wanted to have. So, we went down one of the concourses, where we found a restaurant, that had a dining area available during the lunchtime rush.
There seemed to be countless different restaurants to choose from, but we ended up picking one that looked incredibly western. I couldn’t tell, if it was supposed to be English or American or a fusion of different foods, but it didn’t really matter at that point. We were hungry and looking for a place that had an open table. When we came in, we had to check the stroller and our bags, with the host. Then within a few minutes, we were seated. For a second, we wondered if we could just get away with leaving our bags at the restaurant, then coming back with our ticket later on. We could just act like we forgot them, then come back all freaked out. Instead, we ended up following the host to a table in the back.
As I mentioned before, the decor didn’t strike me as Japanese. The menu had items like chicken wings, hamburgers, pot roast and spaghetti. As an appetizer, you could order garlic bread, which sort of resembled a full loaf of bread, cut in half lengthwise. They present you with the bottom half, which was cut into thick slices. There were a few vegetarian options on the menu that we found, so we were pretty happy that there was something for both of us to eat. I ordered the chicken wings, because throughout the hodgepodge of different menu items, I just couldn’t decide. So I decided on an old favorite. We also ordered the garlic bread.
After we ate, we walked down the concourse to the Keikyu line, which took you to the Haneda Airport. When we arrived at the airport, we walked to the international terminal. The massive ticketing area was like a cathedral. It was a bright white dome with incredibly high ceilings, which made the city you were arriving at seem underwhelming by comparison.
We waiting in line, to check our bags with as many things back into our checked luggage as we could fit. We still had our umbrellas in tow, because they seem to be of high quality for the price. The representative told us that we would have to check the umbrella, as stuffing them in a suitcase pocket, would not meet FAA regulation. After we dropped off our bags, we dropped our pocket wifi into the mailbox, with the self addressed envelope that was provided. We went through security, which seemed so quick that it was unmemorable. After arriving on the other side, we had pretty much missed our shot at getting anything decent to eat. We took a tram to our concourse, which felt like it was on the other side of the massive airport. When we arrived at our concourse, there were only a few places where we could possibly get a snack, in addition to the mostly souvenir and duty free shops.
We knew that once we boarded the plane, we would be able to get all sorts of drinks and snacks, so we weren’t too bothered by the minimal selection of green teas and bottles of water. When we arrived at the gate, we were still pretty early. We asked the person at the desk, if we were able to reserve the bassinet, which had alluded us on our flight to Tokyo. The agent informed me that we had to reserve it at the ticket desk. She continue to tell us that someone else had reserved the seat and the bassinet ahead of time. I mentioned to the agent that when I booked the flight over the phone, the person that sold me the ticket didn’t make me aware of the specific seat, that we would have to reserve. Then the person at check-in desk told us that we needed to reserve it at the gate. It all seemed a little ridiculous to me to not have a defined policy in place. When we purchased the tickets close to 9 months in advance, we would’ve paid the additional cost for the specific seat, if we were guaranteed the bassinet. Instead, we would just have to take turns holding Escher again for the next 12 hours. The flight was scheduled to take off on time. There may have been a slight delay, but it wasn’t noticeable. The biggest complaint about the gate was its proximity to additional food and drinks. Elizabeth had found a nursery room nearby, where she could feed the baby in peace. While I decided to just stick by the gate, because I always have an anxiety about missing my flight. As I looked around the airport, it was a massive piece of architectural beauty. Even from our distant gate, which seemed miles away from Tokyo at this point, the building made you feel like you were someplace special.
On the plane back to the states, I did a little writing and drawing, in between times when I tried to sleep. In the end, with all of the interruptions, the meals and drinks being served, I ended up just watching movies. I ended up watching The Big Sick and almost crying on the plane. Then maybe I watched a superhero movie, but it was all a big blur. Near the end of the flight, we started to enter Los Angeles airspace, only to find out that we were on a detour to Ontario, California. The captain said that the plane was low on fuel and that we were supposedly going to be in a holding pattern over LAX until the runway cleared. In order to perform the holding pattern, however, we needed to refuel the plane.
The flight landed in Ontario and the passengers couldn’t be more antsy. We had already been on the plane for around 13 hours, then we were going to have to wait another hour for the plane to fuel, before flying an hour back to LAX. It was appearing pretty likely, that we were going to miss our flight to San Diego. We were scheduled to arrive at LAX at around noon, then flying to San Diego and arriving by 2pm. This definitely wasn’t going to happen.
As soon as you arrive at the Los Angeles International airport, you need to make sure that you have used the toilet before you excited the plane. While the Haneda Airport was welcoming and accommodating with a toilet right outside the gate, LAX isn’t so welcoming. If you are coming into America, you have to get through customs and border security, before you are even allowed to think about using the bathroom. While the people of Tokyo were nice and wore huge smiles as they helpfully guided you through customs, the TSA agents could care less that you’ve been up for practically 24 hours. Or that you were stuck on a runway in Ontario for an hour refueling. They didn’t care that you were probably going to miss your next flight.
A lot of miss-information is expressed by people in politics, who probably fly private internationally. They talk about how easy it is for people to enter the US, but at LAX, you might as well be on a watch list, whether you are American or not. There didn’t seem to be a separate line for people with US passports or people who were US citizens and separate a line for everyone else. I am all for equality, but for ease in travel, it seems like it would benefit the citizens of your country, if they were able to be separated at least from people who knew no English.
I believe they had a separate line for people with foreign passports, who knew enough English to read the sign that said “Foreign Passports”. Then, there was a line for Americans mixed with people who couldn’t read English. After walking through one long corridor after another and asking countless TSA agents about the restrooms, we arrived in a room with the customs computers. We had our faces and fingerprints scanned, then printed out on a piece of paper. We stood in line again holding this printout, waiting as TSA agents repeatedly asked people, what their country of origin was and what was the reason for their visit. In some cases, they would have to ask the people the same 2 or 3 questions multiple times. This made my desire to pee even more unbearable and made me extremely irritable. I imagined myself yelling at a TSA agent, then being take to a room with a two way mirror and instantly going into a corner to relieve myself.
When arriving in Tokyo, we walked up to a kind gentleman. He asked us 2 or 3 questions, then we walked through customs within 2 or 3 minutes. In the US, we easily waited 30 minutes as the three TSA/Immigration/Customs agents questioned people who knew maybe a handful of words in English. Luckily, after we answered the questions correctly and we were officially able to enter the US, there was a restroom close by.
We still needed to gather our luggage at the baggage claim, then take a tram to the domestic terminal. Once there, we needed to re-check our bags. We waited in line at the baggage check with a few other people whom I recognized from our flight. We would all need to reschedule our flights. Every moment that passed, felt like we were getting further and further from making it back home. I couldn’t wait to just drop our bags, then sleep in our own bed.
When we arrived at the desk, the representative was just as rude as the rest of Los Angeles seemed to be. She didn’t seem sympathetic to our case, although she managed to find a flight for us which was leaving 3 hours later. Instead of arriving in San Diego at 2pm, our arrival time was going to be closer to 7pm. With our tickets printed out and our bags checked, we headed for the tram. Once we arrived at the correct concourse, we would take a bus to the isolated commuter terminal, which felt like it was in the middle of the runway. While we didn’t expect much for the commuter terminal as far as food went, there was a small snack stand where we could purchase crackers or soda. If we wanted to eat anything substantial, we missed our chance. We couldn’t do anything, but get more hungry and more tired. As I calculated the hours, since I woke up in Shibuya, I ended up close to 25 hours.
The flight eventually boarded and less than an hour later, we were back in San Diego. We gathered our luggage and met Elizabeth’s mom on the curb, who brought our son Hendrix with her to pick us up. Hendrix’s face was a glow as we showered him with hugs and kisses. When we arrived back at our house, we were greeted by our dog, who felt like she hadn’t see us in months. It had been an amazing trip, but it was good to be back home, in our new house.