Traveling with family is equivalent to being entrenched in a living hell – in which frustrations are vented continually with snide remarks. Mad, neurotic events ensue, which instantaneously string every member along in a barmy, frenzied dance of Macarena-infused insanity (I’ve now used my full extent of today’s allotted adjectives for today).
This choreographed jig of perpetual lunacy is not exclusively attuned to my family alone, but to many others – but since I’m the one that’s traveling with my family, let me begin my prose by eloquently launching my tale at the set off to Gold Coast Airport – in which my whole family decided that releasing one’s bladder before a car ride would be a ludicrous idea – and thus a hysterical rush to the airport’s toilets on arrival was the first madcap event of the day. Next was the insistence that the taps in the toilets would not stop gushing water. Next was the insistence that we had all lost our passports. Following this was the insistence that the airport did not have food facilities (they did). After this, was the fact that dad had left a can of Coke in his luggage for a delightful Customs staff member to subsequently chortle gaily, shotgun the errant Coke as his, and glug it down like an icy cold beer. I could almost envision his stained wife-beater and scuffed Stubbies.
The tail end of a Japanese Airlines plane. Yeah, that’s one hot plane-ass. Hell, yes. When I took this picture, I couldn’t be more overjoyed that we had made it on to solid ground again.
Maddening NE’X train ticket to the glory that was Shinagawa Station.
Finally aboard the plane, we cruised towards Tokyo, running on schedule despite my family’s cacophonous coughs and phlegm-freeing-activities not causing us to be investigated for quarantine purposes. Hooray and added celebrations. In any case, we made it, and after a maddening fiasco at the train station – in which no one would listen to my simple, calm instructions – we made it to Shinagawa Station, all limbs intact and with very little damage to my very fragile sense of sanity.
Our green curtains. They were much greener in person. This is more a kind of “muted green” due to one of my favorite bad habits: Over-processing Photography.
After checking in and collapsing semi-conscious onto the brick-hard mattresses, the first thing that hit me about the rooms was just how green they were. And I mean, they were treacherously green. Not an eco-let’s-save-the-planet green. But the colour green: green carpets, green wallpaper, green curtains, green bedspreads, green tiles in the bathroom, green body wash in the green-tiled bathroom. I was honestly surprised there wasn’t a green toilet seat and the complimentary robes weren’t embedded with green stripes. A giggle though, the complimentary toothbrushes, were in fact green. It was similar to being encased in a large body-sized green pea shell: both slightly HIGHFIVE FOR STICKING WITH A THEME, PRINCE HOTEL!
And then ensued one of the most turbulent nights of “sleep” I have ever experienced in my whole entire life – actually, make that a glorious eight nights of non-sleep, I have ever experienced in my whole life. Yes, that was DAY ONE of my splendid trip to Japan.