Uncomfortable: A Story of Air Travel

On July 14, 2012, I arrived eagerly at Tokyo Narita Airport bouncing with excitement and anticipation.  I was finally setting out on my long awaited trip to Iceland.  Three weeks of blind adventure and reuniting with old friends.  I also had the chance to share some long-awaited time with family on both ends of this journey.  As I waited for my flight from Tokyo to Denver, I sat harnessing my energy for the epic adventure ahead of me.  

I was almost saddened to hear my boarding call for I was so engrossed in the Sumo match playing on the television at the gate.  Only in Japan is Sumo broadcasted to the multitudes for sporting pleasure.  Each day offers an opportunity for some minor cultural experience!


Preparing for my flight to LAX, I wedged myself into my window seat .  I plunged into another movie marathon due to a lack of ability for airtime sleep.  Was it exploding excitement or just the unfortunate wirings of my body's resistance to flight time slumber?  I would like to think the former, but the later seems to be the most likely case.

I was fortunate enough to endure the entirety of this trip in a fog of human gas.  I have experienced this in two to three hour bursts of pungentness, but this was a first to be engulfed in this phenomenon over the duration of an eleven hour flight.  

Arriving in Las Angeles, I was sweating and feeling the strong desire to shower (and puke).  This was my first time to visit LAX, and I was greeted with everything I had expected to see: confusion, chaos and an abundance of bleach and silicone.  I was back in the U.S.!  After customs and more confusion, I set off on a hike to the bus that would be carrying me to my gate.  The bus left on schedule, and I was off.  However, we crossed many a runway, and I half expected the bus to take off for my flight to Denver.  But finally, I arrived at my gate: The Gate that Time Forgot. 
I have always heard of the lengthy L.A. commutes, but I never expected it to be included in the air travel package.

Following this, I could not have been more thrilled to have my three hour layover extended with the delay of my departure.  But I did board my jet with the excitement of seeing family after a long absence.  

Now, you have probably been expecting that this story is about my discomfort along my journey from Tokyo to Denver.  However, that is not the focus of the tale.  I have now brought you to the subject of uncomfortable.  

I sat back with full intention of escaping into a book (Edward Abby's Desert Solitaire) when the unexpected in-flight entertainment began.  Across from me sat a pleasant Japanese, sixty something man, who upheld all of the polite dignity of Japanese culture.  Next to him, sat the twenty something, drunk American girl who proceeded to break every cultural taboo in that same culture.  

He politely asked her where she was from, and she replied rather loudly (for that was the only volume she came), "I'm all L.A. baby!".  I honestly think that everyone on board had already guessed that.  I felt so proud to have such colorful ambassadors for my native country.

There was no chance that I would employ the use of my head phones for utter fear of missing what she might say next.  The entire flight (including flight crew and cockpit personnel) enjoyed the in-flight entertainment, minus, perhaps the horrified gentleman cowering in the prison next to her.  

It was like a train wreck, for I could not look away as the ambassador to L.A. socially raped this poor gentleman, while ordering another Jack and Coke, and another, and another.  This was repeated as she hugged, kissed, stroked, poked and prodded a man who only hoped for a quiet flight.  I was quite impressed with how well he held his composure for the duration of this assault.  

Alas, we arrived in Denver, a place in the U.S. that I due truly connect.  I tip my hat to the exhausted man who is trapped in his seat by his now passed out  girlfriend.  I never left the airport in L.A. but felt that I had received a full L.A. experience.  Many other travelers extended their condolences to the unfortunate subject of social calamity as they filed past.  I believe we all shared the guilt of having received such pleasure from our observation of his misfortune.  We must all remember that it can happen to any of us.  

I was greeted by my brother and escorted to the baggage claim in the usual hurry-up fashion of the Curry men.  After retrieving my bags, I extended a genuine 'job well done' to the now arriving star of the plane.  He had managed to survive, and, surprisingly, his girlfriend was no where to be seen.  

In conclusion, I tip my hat the the polite composure of the Japanese culture and the attempted invasion of the Las Angeles youth, for I observed the cross-cultural struggle with utter delight.  I only hope that karma does not bite me in the ass making me the victim of the next unexpected in-flight entertainment rendering me, Uncomfortable!