2011 – The Year of the Goat

Technically, I think it was the Year of the Rabbit if you believe the Chinese.  I don’t, however, so it was definitely the Year of the Goat, Carlos that is.

2011 was a good year for me.  I did a bit of traveling on the beaten path, mostly for work, but some for fun as well.  Here’s a brief recap of the numbers:

Cities visited for work (not counting my hometown) = 88

Number of airplane rides for work = 114

Total miles flown for work = 144,884

Cities visited for fun (not counting my hometown and not counting cities within driving range) = 4

Number of airplane rides for fun = 8

Total miles flown for fun = 17,214

Total combined miles flown = 162,098

Suck it, Clooney!

I met some great people along the way, and some nutters.  I had quite a few encounters and managed to not get my ass kicked in the process.  I met with some of America’s great companies and some oddballs, including a pawn shop conglomerate in Austin, but hey I got to hang out in Austin so it wasn’t really that bad.  I explored some of the truly great cities of this country and got to experience some of the shitholes, i.e. Akron, Houston, Detroit, etc.  

I managed to sneak in some fun along the path as well.  I caught the Yankees at Fenway on a beautiful Sunday night in Boston.  I caught a couple of Bruins games and managed to see two Bulls playoff games at home.  I got a run in the snowy streets of Milwaukee at 1:00am, and yes, I was sober.  I caught a Sharks game and come to think of it I may need to add San Jose to the list of shithole cities.  I saw the lights of Nashville…sure from the window of a cab, but still. 

I also encountered some of your typical travel headaches, delayed flights, cancelled flights, running through airports to make tight connections, sitting on the tarmac at JFK for 3 hours only to return to the gate and then give it another go of 3 hours until we finally took off, tornados, earthquakes, and tsunami’s.  Pretty standard stuff really, but the good stuff always takes focus off the bad.  Sure I was delayed in Tokyo because of the earthquake and subsequent tsunami, but I got to cross Asia off my ‘ski every continent’ list and got to spend some time with a great friend.  And yeah, I got stuck in Chicago because of a tornado, but I got to witness several drug deals from my $59 last minute motel room window and rearrange every piece of movable furniture in what could only be described as feng shui to block the door.  Coming back from a ski trip in Denver I missed my flight by six hours, but I got one more day of knee deep back bowl skiing. 

So yeah, overall, 2011 was great and 2012 is shaping up to be just as rad, that’s right, rad.

Case in point, the other night I was at one of my favorite places getting some dinner.  I took a table and as it turned out next to me were two hefty lesbians having a conversation/argument/emotional epiphany.  Even on my most creative day, and I think I've only had one, I don’t think I could have made the shit that came out of their mouths up.  In between these gems there were tears, f bombs, and lots and lots of wine.

In no particular order here are some of the best that I managed to capture.  I seriously had to fight back the laughter several times. 

“You look like a transvestite.”

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“Why don’t we kiss anymore?”

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“You look like my dad a lot.”

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“I miss my football card collection.”

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“You have your mom’s bald spot and that mom of yours is not attractive.”

“My mom’s an ugly fucker.”

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“Your ass looks like a marbled rye.”

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“No one is taking a picture of us.  You can kiss me now.”

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“You need to start taking that Rogaine.”

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“Are you honestly going to eat white toast later?”

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A commercial came on for the Olympics

To me:  “Did you remember the Olympics are going to be in Lucerne?”

I pretended not to hear her

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“Why do you have to be so glorious?”

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To the bartender:  “Can I get another glass of wine, but on a separate tab?”

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“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Fuck you.”

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“I’m bringing over Jessica tonight.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

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“Mmmm, you smell like butter.”

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“You have no empathy.”

“You don’t have a dick.”

It was one of the most uncomfortable and awesome meals I’ve ever had.

Here's to 2012 and may you all smell like butter.

you using the whole fist?

Well then there, it’s been a while.  It hasn’t been for lack of travel, but rather lack of motivation or really just plain laziness.  Are those the same?  Happily, I’ve been collecting stories along the beaten path and managed to jot most of them down.  This is a collection of a few of those.  There is no common theme aside from me, which I guess is the common theme.  Hey, there is a common theme.  It’s me.

A while back I was on a flight from Baltimore to San Francisco.  As the plane was coming in for landing the stew came on the intercom and announced gates for connections.  She honestly announced a gate connection for Toronto.  If someone was actually flying from Baltimore to Toronto and connecting through San Francisco they are even more of a glutton for frequent flyer miles than I am.

I was connecting through O’Hare and had a bit of a layover so I decided to sneak in to the Admirals Club.  Now this might sound shocking, but I was quietly enjoying a beer, when this fellow started flipping out.  Let me first describe the gentleman’s appearance.  He was a little older, gray hair, and was probably between his second and third trimester of having a food baby.  He had a pretty snug fitting plain white t-shirt on, equally as snug navy sweat pants, and a big, beautiful pair of brilliant white walking shoes.  Oh, and he was carrying one of those old school leather bound brief cases.  He was walking through the area of tables when he noticed an iPhone just sitting on one of the tables by itself.  While there were several people in the area no one was accompanying the phone.  He stopped dead in his tracks and to no one in particular shouted in a somewhat terrified voice, “who’s cell phone is this?”  A few people looked up from their laptops briefly, but then went back to what they were doing (I assumed they were engrossed in one of my little stories because most of them looked confused and annoyed).  Alarmed that the general public wasn’t taking him or this threat serious enough he shouted even louder “who’s cell phone is this, it’s starting to make a buzzing noise?”  I should mention that he hadn’t moved an inch.  Neither had I for that matter, but now he was kind of hunched over with his knees slightly bent and his arms out to his side.  He was in a cat like stance prepared to make a move in any direction if the situation dictated it.  I was riveted.  Sure enough though, the phone had started buzzing.  I chalked it up to the owner probably calling their phone in hopes of tracking it down and it being on vibrate.  This gentleman, however, took it as an affront to his own personal safety and an attack on our nation’s security.  His latest outburst did catch the attention of one of the waitresses who walked over and calmly picked up the phone.  At this, the guy literally jumped backwards as far as he could, which was about six inches, and crouched down holding his briefcase in front of him as some sort of impromptu shield.  

After he realized nothing had happened when the waitress jarred the would be bomb from its resting place he said in a very grave and serious tone, “you shouldn’t have done that.  I’ve seen enough cop shows to know that you never pick up an unknown device.”  (Really pal, you are making your life decisions based on cop shows?  Was it Cagney or Lacey that gave you that little gem of wisdom?)  She just looked at him bewilderedly and then walked off toward the reception area.  He stood back up and continued on his way to find a table clearly out of harm’s way.  I stood, saluted him, and returned to my beer. 

It’s a Sunday.  It’s six in the morning.  I’m standing in the security line in Seattle.  Needless to say, I’ve been in better moods.  To make things worse I chose, of course, I’m in the slowest line.  There were three lines available and I did my usual scan to try and avoid oldies, people with kids, retards, and cripples in an effort to expedite my way through the line.  What I came to find out is that two of the lines went to one TSA agent while the third line went to only one TSA agent.  Of course the third line was flying along and I got to sit there as people were streaming past me.  As I slowly plodded my way toward the front I was getting more and more heated.  Not only were people filing past me at a steady rate I was seeing people clear the metal detectors and be on their way to their planes and far off magical places.  As for me on the other hand, I was headed for Boca Raton…far off, yes, but definitely not magical.  

And that’s when I saw him, the guy that randomly pulls people out of line for an extra security screen and I knew I was fucked.  They never pick the person with the happy demeanor or smiling face.  They look for the pissed off people because I have to believe they have a pretty shitty job and they want to pick people that are as miserable as they are so they can console each other.  But it doesn’t work that.  And so of course he picks me just as I’m getting to the lady and all I can say is “really?”  “Really what?” is his reply.  And apparently “really” isn’t all I can say.  “Does this make any sense to you?  Two lines going to one person while one line goes to one person.”  “Save your breath pal, I hear it every day”, was his reply.  “And yet you choose to do nothing about it?  Congratulations, you just defined apathy.”  (so I’m not sure if apathy is exactly the right word, but remember it was 6 in the morning on a Sunday, it was the best I could come up with)  He didn’t like that.  

I should mention that while we were conversing he was performing his extra security screen, which consisted of pulling out a moist toilette thingy, wiping my hands off, and then putting it in a machine.  Back to our conversation, “Are we going to have a problem” he asked.  “Me, I’m not going to have a problem.  I’m assuming I passed.” He nodded affirmatively and then I continued, “but you might have a problem.  I’m assuming you are going to be right back here tomorrow.”  I grabbed my bag and was on my way.  I left him with “thanks for cleaning my hands off.”  He just glared at me and hurriedly scurried toward the metal detector in fear of a cavity search in retaliation. 

I’m flying from Orange County back home to Seattle.  It’s been a pretty exhausting couple of days.  Five flights in three days and covering a little over six thousand miles.  So I was a bit tuckered and to top it off I had a middle seat.  It was bulkhead, but still, a middle.  Sitting on either side of me were two, younger, super nerds.  Alright, so maybe that’s a little unfair, but they each had iPhones and Blackberry’s.  In my book, anyone with two phones gets labeled a nerd.  We hadn’t taken off yet so these two are swapping between playing on their iPhones and messaging on their Blackberry’s.  What made these two “super” nerds was that they were playing some sort of game against each other on their iPhones and messaging one another on their Blackberry’s.  This was pretty easy to figure out because one would type something and seconds later the other would pause the game, read the message, and snicker.  When you have two people on either side of you secretly messaging and snickering it can’t help but make you a bit uncomfortable.  So I offered up the option to trade seats so they could sit next to each other and actually verbally converse.  

They declined.  The funny bit was as soon as we were airborne and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign one of them jumped up and grabbed their iPad.  The other one then asked me if I would mind switching seats so they could play a game on the iPad.  I chuckled and he said, “no, seriously.”  Too tired, I said whatever and we traded seats.  The reality was that I kinda wanted to see what cool game they’d be playing.  I was thinking grandiose thoughts involving the iPad and the iPhones and then I saw them pull it up…Monopoly.  “Really fellas, monopoly”, I disappointedly said.  “Oh, it’s really fun”, they replied.  

Our nation’s capital

A couple of weeks ago I had to go to our nation’s capital…well, my nation’s capital anyways.  I stopped off in Minnesota for a meeting prior and then had to connect through Chicago on my way to DC.  Three flights in one day aint that sweet, but I did have the pleasure of encountering an angry man.

So I was connecting through O’Hare and I was a bit hungry.  Unfortunately, O’Hare is a pretty poorly designed airport in that it has very few places to eat and so they are always packed.  Let me rephrase, O’Hare sucks.  I spied an open seat at the bar though and made my way over.  Just as I was getting to the seat I noticed there was a bag in front of it, was about to turn, and then I heard a guy from behind me say, rather sternly, “Nope, not going to happen.”  To which I replied, “huh?”  “Not going to happen, I was sitting there”, he responded.  “Oh yeah, I just realized someone was sitting here when I saw the bag,” was my reply.  “Yeah right,” was his response.  “Listen pal, I get it, you were sitting here, but you don’t have to be a dick about it”.  “Excuse me,” was his retort.  “I said, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”  And before he could reply the woman sitting next to him looked up and said, “you are kind of being a dick about it.”  It was his wife.  I walked off chuckling and found another seat.  I glanced over after I got settled and he was staring daggers in to me.  I smiled and mouthed the words, “you’re a dick.”

Onward, the nice thing about Washington D.C. is that there are a bunch of hotties rolling around and what’s better, at least half of them are republicans.  I did come across some funny conversations though, and not just partisan offerings.

Becky:  “Can you imagine if Sarah Palin and George W. Bush had a kid together?”

Ronald:  “It would be some sort of super human.”

(No joke, word for word and they were dead serious)

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Langston:  “Is that a new Burberry shirt?”

(Okay, this one isn’t that funny, but it made me chuckle a bit.)

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Cassandra:  “I can’t believe you are going out with that guy.  He works for Patty Murray.”

(So this one didn’t happen, but I wanted to get a little dig in on Pat.)

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Alfred:  “What do you think Ruth Bader Ginsberg looks like naked?”

Ronnie:  “A bit like Margaret Thatcher mixed with Wilford Brimley, Why?”

Alfred:  “No reason.”

(So this one didn’t happen either, but when I don’t hear funny shit for a while I just make it up.)

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Me:  (standing in front of the Washington monument asking to a group of young republicans)  “Hey, I’m a bit lost, can you tell me how to get to the Washington monument?

Duke:  “Ah, yeah, just turn around and walk straight that way.” (and they started snickering to themselves)

Me:  “Oh, okay.  Thanks.  Do you about how far I need to go that way?”

Alan:  “Dude, it’s right there.”  (pointing)

Me:  “Oh, okay.  Thanks.  For some reason I thought it would be bigger.  Hey, will you take my picture?”

Washington D.C. to Seattle

Headed home.  I had heard United was having computer issues so I got to the airport a little earlier than normal.  I was not prepared for the chaos however.  I needed to print my boarding pass, but the line was enormous.  Then I remembered one of those kiosks down by baggage claim.  I shouted, “look over there, it’s Katy Perry” to everyone in line and quickly snuck down the escalator.  Sadly, the deserted little machine told me I needed to see an agent.  Back I go to stand in line.  My flight was leaving at 5:15pm.  By the time I got to the front of the line it was 4:45pm.  When the understandably frazzled gal behind the desk finally got to me she informed that the reason I was flagged to see an agent is that I was upgraded to first class.  This gave us both a chuckle.  I waited in line for an hour and a half to get told good news.  And so I scrambled for security after a quick check of the big board to see that my flight was on time.  I got on the people mover at 5:10pm.  With 5 minutes to get to my concourse and then the gate I was pretty sure I was going to make it.  Never mind the fact that they try to close the doors at least ten minutes before departure time.  Off of the people mover and I’m sprinting, bags in hand.  As a general rule, I don’t run through airports, but if I missed this flight I’d have to wait until the morning. 

Having never sprinted through an airport I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  Would people be respectful and maybe get out of the way or would they still be stuck in their own worlds oblivious to others.  What I found was a mixed bag.  Some were great in stepping out of the way after seeing my feet a flying and me wielding my laptop bag above my head like one of those medieval mace dealies, while others continued their oblivity (I know that’s not a word, but I like it) and I was forced to either yell at them or in a few cases run them over.  My favorites, however, were the ones that saw me, but froze like deer caught in headlights.  Their eyes went wide, arms held out, and they sort of bounced back and forth from one foot to the other in some kind of linebacker stance bracing for impact.  I shouted at the first bambi “LEFT” trying to get him to go left.  Unfortunately, my brain wasn’t quick enough to pick up the his left vs. my left because after he went left I went right thinking it was the right way to go and I ended up crashing in to him sending us both to the floor.  As I was scrambling to my feet he looked up with a pair of saddened eyes like I had just shot his mother and said,  “you said LEFT”.  I muttered something that could have been construed as an apology, but really, I said “fuck you.”

As I was picking up speed again and nearing my gate I started hoping the door would just be closing or the jetway would be slowly pulling away from the plane and I could yell in response to the objections of the gate agents as I rushed passed, “it’s okay, I’m a limo driver” and I could make the leap.  To my disappointment as I rounded the corner all I saw was a gaggle of pissed off looking people and then I noticed the alert that the flight was delayed two hours…

Hands on my knees to help catch my breath I glanced around.  Hey, a bar, and with plenty of open seats.  Everything was coming up millhouse.  I got a nice little jog in, my patience was tested and I aced it, sort of, I made some sure to be long standing friends, and hey, I got upgraded. 

Good times on the beaten path.

if this planes a rockin'

As mentioned in my previous post, I was going to document the rest of my trip, but at this rate I wouldn’t be finished until 2013.  So I’ve decided to just to document a few of the funnier or interesting or just plain boring experiences I had and maybe throw in a bit about my last day.  I got caught up in the earthquake that ravaged Japan earlier this year. 

The remainder of my time in Japan was awesome!  Great snow, great weather, good food, and plenty more onsens…oh, and a couple more cold beers.  From Japan I was heading to Hong Kong for a few days.  Having never been to Asia I thought I should at least check out another city while I was there.  So off we headed.

On my first day I rolled about town for a bit.  I decided to try and high five some people.  For the day I was zero for twenty three.

I took somewhere around forty pictures of buildings.  My thought process was that my little brother is an architect and he’d probably like these.  To date, I haven’t shown him one.

On day two my resolve was stronger than ever.  I was determined to get at least one high five.  I got three.  Unfortunately, they were from out of towners.

One day I decided to head to Stanley, a small little town on the sea that was supposed to be pretty cool.  Greg gave me the lowdown on the bus so off I headed to the station.  I found the right bus and waited patiently to get on.  In front of me were two older English ladies exchanging words with the bus driver.  At one point one of the ladies turned, exacerbated, and blurted out the following to no one in particular.  The only problem is that she happened to catch my eye line.

Margaret:  “I can’t believe the fucking bus driver doesn’t speak fucking English.”

Me:  “You know you’re in fucking Hong Kong, right?”

Margaret:  “Well really!”

Me:  “Really?  So if he was in London would the bus drivers speak Mandarin?”

Margaret:  “Well, I never.”

I glanced at their husbands and they were stifling smirks and all out laughter.

One day I took the tram up to the top of some peak back behind Hong Kong.  It was a nice day so I decided to walk down.  It was a great walk with tons of greenery and amazing views of the city, the bay, and Kowloon.  I got back in to the city with a hankering for a beer.  As I was looking around for a suitable place I stopped at a light.  In front of me was, well, a very nice ass.  It was a ladies’ ass, by the way.  What was a little strange though was the way she was standing.  She had her legs crossed at her ankles so it kinda looked like she was posing for something.  Being the suave, sophisticated guy I am…oh wait…I’m a jackass so my opening line was, “hey, what are you posing for?”  She looked at me quizzically and said, “pardon?”  But it wasn’t just “pardon” as in Dolly.  It was “pardon” with that wonderfully awesome Australian accent.  I was hooked, instantly enamored.  Unfortunately, I was me so I chose an awful opening line that would be hard to recover from.  Fumbling, I said, “sorry, it just looked like you were posing for something.”  “Oh, okay”, was the reply.  I was in a hole.  With nothing left I went for the hail mary…”I was just going to grab a beer, you wanna join me?”  Slight pause and then following with, “do you know a good place around here?”  Slight pause on her part and she said, “sure.”  Not quite the jump out of your chair enthusiasm I was hoping for, but after that start I’d take it.  On our way down the street I said, “great, but I am NOT drinking  Fosters!”  That got a chuckle.  I was back in.  As Joel Goodsen said, “sometimes you gotta just say, what the fuck?”

A good trip indeed, but it was finally time to head back home.  My route was going to take me back through Tokyo.  It was a pleasant, uneventful flight.  The landing was smooth.  The only thing that could have made the five hours better would have been if I had one of those surgical masks on so I could have fit in a little better.  As we were taxiing to the gate the wings suddenly started to wobble.  In those first two seconds I thought another plane had taken off above us and we were caught in the jet wash like Maverick and Goose were and here I was without an ejector seat.  Then the fuselage started to twist and shake.  Then the wings really started going and that’s when the pilot slammed on the brakes.  I thought quietly to myself…wait, who thinks “loudly” to themselves?  Anywho, I thought quietly, “we just had an earthquake.”  About five minutes later the captain came on and confirmed it.  Thirty minutes later we were told the airport and tower had been evacuated so we were going to have to sit tight for a while.  Information started trickling in about the magnitude of the quake, but really we didn’t have any solid information.  Seven hours later people were annoyed to say the very least.  I’ll say this though, the All Nippon Airways crew was great, considering the circumstances, a plane full of cranky people locked in a steal tube.  We were finally let in to the terminal and when we saw the devastation and destruction the earthquake caused all the frustration and anger melted away.  I was left with a tremendous amount of guilt.

Once in the terminal the place took on the scene of a zombie movie.  Just a bunch of walking dead roaming around a deserted place aimlessly.  Bands formed, camps were set up, I think someone even fired up a hibachi ,blankets were used as currency…unfortunately, everything was closed so any form of currency was useless.  So I gave away all the blankets I grabbed from the plane, found a place to hunker down, and tried to get a bit of sleep.  The aftershocks made it a bit difficult though.  Oh and the cold, hard tile floor didn’t help much either, but hey, I was safe, relatively healthy, and did I mention safe?

The next day was a zoo.  Piles of people streaming in trying to get out of the country, it was chaos.  I stood in line for the better part of the day, but I finally got re-booked on a flight departing that night so all in all, I was just delayed for a bit.  In the grand scheme of things it really wasn’t that bad.

Thankfully, that hasn’t deterred me from traveling so there are plenty of stories to come from the past few months.  

there is nothing like a good swaddling...

Day two, 3/4

Nagano

Ski day.  Enough said…oh wait…there’s more.  Greg woke me up at 7am.  Between the onsen and a solid sleep I felt like a hundred dollars.  Breakfast was at 7:30 sharp and then we’d catch a shuttle for the mountain.

Breakfast.  Not quite your standard Grand Slam or Moons Over My Hammy.  Rice, smoked salmon, miso soup, udon noodles, seaweed, tuna, and a bunch of other shit that I had no idea as to what it was.  In keeping with my grandma’s advice I tried everything at least once though, no matter how crazy it looked, and for the most part it was all good.

Full, but not stuffed, we geared up for some skiing.  The ride up was about 25 minutes and was beautiful.  I had decided not to bring my skis as I was heading to Hong Kong later and didn’t really feel like lugging them around.  I hoped this wouldn’t be an issue.  At the rental place I was presented with a pair of 160cm Head skis circa 2002.  For reference, I ski a 186cm.

After some nodding, smiling, and hand gesturing I decided to just go in back and check out the goods to see what else they had.

What I found looked like Glen Plake’s garage from 1984.  The biggest pair I could find were 174’s and I think they were the first “shaped” skis made, but they would have to do. 

Keeping with the zero prep schedule I hadn’t looked at a trail map of the area we’d be spending the next few days conquering.  In general, I don’t like trail maps.  Whether I’m in the states or half way round the world I follow one simple life motto:  “Push forward and drop in”.

In my estimation it’s the best course of action, whether on mountain or in life.  Hey, is that Tony Robbins?

So that’s what we did.  And what a day it was.  Blue bird.  Not a cloud in the sky and the snow was fantastic.  We tore up a few runs and quickly realized the Japanese tend to stay in the middle of the runs leaving nice little stashes of untracked along the sides of most runs.  And then we found it, a beautiful gladed area that hadn’t been touched.  Thankfully the warning signs were in Japanese.  Greg later told me they basically said area prohibited, but they also said ski at your own risk.

What we found in amongst the trees was knee deep in most areas and waste deep around some of the large trees.  My skis let me down a few times, the skinny tips didn’t provide much float so they were swallowed every now and then and I took some pretty good diggers, but the landings were soft and I was having a blast.

We broke for lunch and then decided to explore a bit.  Shiga Kogen, the ski area, is pretty damned expansive as it turns out.  We broke ground on several valleys and quickly realized we had barely scratched the surface. 

We packed it in around 4pm, resolved to see the full spoils of what the rest of the mountains had to offer the following day.  Plus, I had a hankering for a beer and the shuttle was picking us up at 4:30.  The après scene is pretty non-existent.  What Japan does have, however, is an abundance of vending machines and most have an assortment of beers.

So we grabbed a couple, found some seats outside, and toasted a great first day.

I had crossed Asia off my list!

The shuttle arrived promptly and we made our way down the mountain.

It was onsen time.  It turned out to be a little busier at 5 in the afternoon than 11:30 at night.  I’ve never seen that many naked Japanese men in one place.  Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one naked Japanese man.  Some were reserved, holding their washcloth in front of their junk as they walked around while others walked around with a lot more bravado placing the folded cloth on top of their head.  Greg explained this was the custom.  Being the only two foreign devils in there we stuck out like sore thumbs especially since I decided to swaddle my junk with my washcloth.  I got some odd looks, most were envious.

Most of you, yes you, know that a hot tub feels great after a hard day on the mountain, but an onsen…holy shit!  Maybe it was the natural spring water, the nakedness, the view, who knows, but it felt fantastic.

Back in the room I sat down and thought I was going to pass out.  I was that relaxed.  Really.

Speaking of the room…I should probably give you an idea of what to expect should you decide to go…and you should.  Yes, you.

You enter though a door.  No really.  You enter in to a little room with a step up to another room, a rack for shoes and three doors.  Behind door number one is the crapper, door number two is the shower, and door number three is the main room.  The main room is actually pretty good sized and depending on the time of day it’s configured one of two ways.  There are a couple of western style chairs over by the deck.  There is also a big floor table made for midgets.  Actually, it’s a “kneeler”, but whatever.  Cram it dwarves.  They also had a couple of floor chairs.  Basicially dining chairs with no legs.  There is also a TV, a closet, and a little sink in the corner.  Pretty bare bones, but nice.  This was the day configuration.  While we were at dinner they would come in and push the midget table against the wall and pull a futon mattress out of the closet, throw it on the floor and make it up for sleepy time.

For Greg and I there were two separate futons, you perverts.

After the onsen we headed down for dinner.  As we found out, most hotel guests just roll around in the robes the hotel provides.  So for the next few days I lived in either ski gear or a robe.  Which is really how it should be all the time.

After dinner we asked about nightlife and was informed the hotel had a nice bar, but that was about it.  So we headed that way and found that we were the only ones in the joint.  The bartender looked like a Japanese Steve Winwood from his Roll With It days so we stayed and had a few beers.

***I had originally planned on detailing the rest of the days…but I’m going to skip ahead to the last day.  I’ll add some of the funnier bits from the other days though...

does anyone have a copy of Kilroy Was Here that i can borrow?

March, 2011

Seattle to Japan to Hong Kong to Seattle

Finally, I was going to cross Asia off my list of continents to ski.  I’ve had a goal for a few years to knock them all off by the time I’m forty and now I would only have Africa to go. (which will happen next year in case anyone is interested)  And to top not only tackling another continent, I get to do it with one of my best friends that I’ve known since kindergarten.

Greg is currently living and working in Hong Kong, but he’s going to meet me in Tokyo and then we’ll journey to Nagano.

It should be noted at this point, I don’t speak a lick of Japanese, nor have I ever been to Asia.  Thankfully, Greg has both covered.  He’s fluent in Japanese and actually lived there for a semester of undergrad and two years of graduate school.  Without him I’m not sure this trip would have happened.  Needless to say, I’m stoked.  That’s right, “stoked”, Spicoli.

We’d been talking about this trip for quite a while, but it kinda snuck up fast.  I actually booked my flights about a week before my departure date.  So not a ton of prep was done aside from deciding what gear to bring.  Look at a map? Nah.  Maybe check out a guide book? No way.  How about a peak at the weather?  Your joking.  I’ve got gear for all conditions, a passport, and a credit card.  Let’s roll.

Day one, 3/3

SEA to NRT

A straight shot.  My intent was to try and sleep.  My excitement got the better of me.  As soon as I settled in to my seat I was bouncing off the fuselage.  I was emailing and texting anyone that would listen and even those that wouldn’t.  This would be a fitful flight.

I left on a Thursday at noon and arrived on a Friday at 4:00pm.  Somehow, it seemed like it took a couple of hours, really.

Greg was waiting outside baggage claim and we were off to Tokyo by train.  We were going to meet his buddy from grad school that still lives there for dinner, then off to Nagano.

We met for sushi in Tokyo station.  You might be thinking, “sushi in a train station?”  I was thinking the same thing, but it was fantastic.

I came to Asia with an open pallet in mind.  I’m fairly reserved when it comes to sushi; mainly sticking to rolls and things I know.  But I decided to throw my inhibitions out the window and follow my grandma’s mantra; “try everything on your plate at least once.”  So I let my compatriots do the ordering.

It was awesome.  I ate stuff that I never would have and for the most part I liked it all.  I’m not going to try and kid you that everything was great, but I gave it a go.  I had a bunch of sashimi; octopus, eel, scallops, tuna, shrimp, and salmon and a number of different rolls with varied ingredients.  I decided I’d ask after the fact what it was I just ingested.  It turned out to be a solid plan.

Tons of great food and a few beers later Greg and I were bound by train for Nagano.  In the meager amount of prep time for this trip I’d talk to friends or co-workers about my upcoming vacation and the conversation was typically the same:

Me:  “I’m off on vacation to ski in Japan.”

Lawrence:  “Really, you can ski in Japan?”

Me:  “Yah, I’m going to Nagano.”

Lawrence:  “Where?”  (sometimes it was, “never heard of it.”)

Me:  “They had the Olympics there.”

Lawrence:  “Really?”  (sometimes it was, “oh yeah.”)

…and scene…

Back on the train to Nagano and you’d think sleep would catch up to me.  Nope.  With feet on the ground, so to speak, and sometime to catch up with my pal, I was doubly stoked.  At Nagano we hopped on a local train to the mountain.  I was actually too excited to sit so we stood for the forty five minute ride.

Along the way a nice looking gentleman got on.  Actually, he looked like Nick Nolte in that infamous mug shot except his face was bright red.  A tell tale sign for most Asians.

Had I had this pre-disposition to the outwardly visual effects of alcohol I think my mom would have sent me to seminary when I was a youth.

Back to my pal Henry on the train.  At one point he was teetering on the edge of his seat, swaying back and forth  and I honestly thought he was going to topple.

henry

Stick figures don’t do it justice, but instead of falling he decided to puke.

That’s right, puke.  But being the kind, courteous gentleman that Henry is, he cupped his hands ala the Allstate guy from the commercial and chundered in his makeshift cup.  Unfortunately, his cup runeth over and the vomit began to ooze out on to the floor.  He held strong though, and kept those hands pressed together for several stops.  And one by one all of his surrounding riders began to move to the back of the train as the stench became more and more potent.

Fueled by embarrassment and probably a need for another drink, Henry stumbled off at the next exit.  Sadly, for Henry, his feet betwixted one another when he hit the pavement and he went for a tumble.  I’m not sure why, honestly, but for some reason Henry decided to protect his treasure and thusly, opted to land on his elbows instead.  The end result however was a face full of vomit as his grill plunged straight in to this cupped hands of goodness.  Gravity and too much sake is a bitch.

A few stops later and we had arrived at out destination that would be home base for the next few days.  It was about 11:30pm as we found our way to our hotel.

We were staying at an all inclusive, of sorts, hotel.  They provided breakfast and dinner, but the best thing about this place was the onsen.  An onsen is a Japanese bath fueled by a natural hot spring coming from within the mountain.

Upon checking in we headed straight for the onsen.  Along the way Greg explained the rules:

onsen

1. The only suit allowed is of the birthday variety.
2. Only the small washcloth is allowed in the bath room.
3. The washcloth is never allowed in the bath water itself though.
4. You must thoroughly bath at one of the bathing stations.  (s stool with a flexible shower hose and a variety of soaps.)
5. Dripping water on the tatami (the floor of the changing room) is the same as pissing on it.  In other words, don’t do it.

So after a long flight, multiple train rides, and no sleep the onsen felt unbelievable.  I thought I was going to pass out right there in the tub.

Back in the room I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.  I haven’t fallen asleep that quickly in a long, long time.

 

Tomorrow we ski.  Tonight, I’d sleep and dream of you.  Yes, you.