January 10
Fourteen hours long, the flight would take us across 10,000 miles. My prior longest flight had been to Poland and it had lasted a lengthy nine hours by which time I was quite ready to disembark. This flight promised to be one that would test endurance.
Since we were flying pretty much after the holiday season, the flight had some seats open yet, so Debra came back to sit by Mrs. Medlin and me. Soon enough, the plane took off and we were airborne. Time dragged on as the animated plane periodically shown the screens made its way from Chicago to Tokyo. Conversation passed into reading, reading passed into music listening, which in turn passed into conversation anew, until that was interrupted by the delights of airline cuisine. Once we had sufficiently picked at the strange substances reheated in plastic containers, conversation resumed, leading to some reading, and then finally, at sometime around the six hour mark, to sleep. Judging by the projection of our flight, we would be flying in perpetual daylight, so that January 9th and 10th would blend into one dawn and one dusk, with unnaturally long hours of daylight between.
Sleep is not easy on a jumbo jet, no matter what length one's legs, but, alas, airline economics (not to mention the propensity of this particular flight to have carts roll by every hour or so) interfere with comfort. In any case, I drifted in and out of the dream state for some hours until I finally awoke fully realizing that nine hours had passed so far in the air, and we had as yet five to go. But ah, my heart, and feet, and body all wanted to depart and to walk again on green grass, to walk again on the earth, to run -- quite simply, to be elsewhere than on an airplane over the Bering Strait. But time wore on, and conversation passed into reading, and reading into conversation anew, this time interrupted by a meal of better quality, thankfully, and then soon we were landing. The marathon flight was over, and it was the gathering evening of the tomorrow of the day we had set out.
We quickly (travelers taxed by long journey tend towards expediency) set about doing away with Immigration, Customs and Baggage Claim. Finally, we made our way into the Arrivals lobby, where we found Mrs. Ruko Mizoguchi of US Army Japan awaiting us. Debra and I both briefly called home, letting family know that we were now in Tokyo -- in Tokyo! -- and safe.
We came to our hotel, the New Sanno, and set about a quick dinner, ere we all retired to rest, for the 11th of January was one of two days for which formal attire was required, and it would require all of our strength of mind and body. As I prepared for rest and typed away on my Palm's keyboard, I reflected on the cultural differences between the US and Japan, and remembered how struck I had been at how clean the Tokyo Narita International Airport had been -- and how clearly labeled everything had been. There seemed to project from the Japanese, at least as far as I could tell so far, a deep respect for a sense of order, and I found that it resonant with some feeling within myself.
And thus it is that the journey begins, and this journal entry must end.