Note: I wrote this a few days ago, but haven't had time to write a follow-up now that I'm in Japan. So, you're going to have to content yourself with this for the time being until I have time to crank out another one. Deal.

So, here I find myself cruising along at steady 822 km/hr at 36,000 feet (first sentence of my blog and I’ve already managed to mix the American and metric systems. Talk about living on the edge!) above the Pacific, pondering how exactly I wanted to start the pilot (*Swish!) installment of this blog regaling you all with my adventures in the Land of the Rising Sun. Over the past four hours I’ve had time to give it a good mulling over, and so far I have yet to reach any satisfying conclusion, although I have come up with the following list of ways I DON’T intend to start this blog.

1)      A generic introduction about my life.  The way I figure it, if you’re reading this blog, you already know me well enough to insure that any wordage I expend In an effort to further familiarize you with me would be a colossal waste of your time. Not mine, you understand; I don’t land for another 6 hours and 41 minutes, and there are few topics I find so fascinating as myself, so I’m really only thinking of you, dearest readers.

2)      A boring quote about travel or life by some famous dead person you don’t actually care about.

3)      A song and dance number performed by the crew of the plane. I thought about it, but given the nonplussed expressions I received from the flight attendants when I made a Grease reference (one was telling another that some unspecified objects were supposed to “go together,” which prompted a reflexive response of “like ramma lamma lamma, da dinga da dinga dong” from me) I can reliably conclude that they are lacking in musical experience, sense of humor, or both.

And there you have it.  I have now accomplished my aim of beginning my blog with none of the preceding uninspired crutches (or impractical fantasy scenarios, as the case may be.) I do, however, wish to make it clear that by reading this blog, you are entering into an unwritten contract with me to observe the following list (I’m a great one for lists.  If the prospect of more scares you, I advise that you bail now) of precepts.

1)      At no point in this blog do I claim to make any amount of coherent sense, or provide down-to-earth, reasonable representations of real events. My thought patterns make about as much sense as a platoon of giraffes with snorkels wearing bell-bottom Zubas. Nor do I promise to do more than ramble on with endless inane sentences that may or may not have anything to do with my time in Japan.

2)      That first point was really the only one I wanted to make, now that I think about it. But it looked lonely so I added this one too.

In any case, my journey has begun. My flight from Minneapolis to Seattle was occupied by what I consider to be the maximum safe intake of Scooby Doo cartoons, two episodes of “I Faked My Own Death,” listening to Bear Grylls tell me how to eat a scorpion safely, and a burning desire to know how any human being could consume as many salted peanuts as the fellow a few rows ahead of me. Oh, and several trips to the bathroom, but anyone who knows me is well aware that that is to be expected from ol’ Baby Bladder Broscoff. I briefly attempted to get some sleep, but the only part of me that succeeded in this endeavor was my right buttock, which, as a matter of fact, still slumbers peacefully now, 7 hours later.

We landed in Seattle ahead of schedule, which afforded me enough time to grab an affordably priced $8 turkey sandwich. Hah! That’s sarcasm, folks! Good luck identifying it in the future exclusively through text! For someone like me who abhors spending money on anything as inconsequential and transitory as food, this was the equivalent of a dull screwdriver being stabbed into my spleen. But I spose I better get used to it, huh? The only unfortunate aspect of the first flight was that the plane was so crammed with people I was told that the small carry-on suitcase I had intended to place in the overhead compartment was going to have to be checked with the rest of the luggage.  So long contact solution, and with it my only chance of sleeping on the trip to Osaka. Ah well. Nothing like the scratchy joy of eyes that feel like they’ve been rubbed with kitty litter!

I then boarded the plane to Osaka and was pleased to see that, as an international flight, it did appear much more comfortable and spacious than the matchbox-sized enclosure they had crammed us all on to Seattle.  I had been spoiled by the free wifi and satellite TV on the previous flight though, so the lack of it on this flight was a strong blow that I’m still recovering from. How am I supposed to make it to Japan without watching 30Rock, checking out video game reviews, and reading about Magic cards? Life can be cruel, but I put on my samurai face and bore it all with as much silence and stoicism as possible in such cataclysmic circumstances.  I know, I know, I’m a trooper.

After an hour or two of flight, we were offered the choice of two meal choices. I partook of the beefy, shrimpy, noodly, saucy concoction dutifully, and found that it really wasn’t too bad. At first I was absorbed in trying to identify the lumpy elongated gray bits, but I eventually concluded they were likely some form of caterpillar, and they didn’t trouble me after that. Knowing is half the battle, right?

Without the pleasures of technology to keep me occupied, I had to turn my attention elsewhere.  With the multitude of diverse and interesting people aboard the plane, all with myriad fascinating details ripe for observation, it is not difficult for a student of the science of deduction to quickly immerse himself in a study of those around him. Unfortunately, I’m no such student. Instead, I engaged in a rousing game of peek-a-boo with the little Japanese boy sitting in front of me.  He continued to pop his head up from behind the seat to stare at me in true meerkat fashion for quite some time until he fell asleep an hour or so ago. We even conversed briefly in basic Japanese, so we’re pretty much bestie flight-friends now.  It is only his absence, friends, which gave me the spare time to compose this brief exposition on my travel experiences up until this point. With him sleeping, I found myself lost in thought for the better part of an hour thinking about how weird belly buttons are. Maybe I’m just tired, but seriously, they’re… swirgly.

 Hark! I now hear him stirring, and want to be present when he awakes. As exciting as 15 hours of sitting on my rump is, I’m anticipating that the next installment will be even more thrilling! Until then!