Eels On A Plane.

After a 2nd nights sleep on Steve's couch, I woke up and went through the same exact routine as the day before, except this time when I got to the self-check-in counter, at the airport, it actually printed out my tickets.
I made my way through security, which was actually the most hassle-free I've ever experienced. Go figure, even with an international flight...

Exchanged a bunch of my lousy American Dollars to the much more usable Japanese Yen. Found an outlet on the wall at the gate I was departing from, and watched "The Jacket" while I waited for my flight.

When I boarded the plane (a massive 2-deck 747) it occurred to me that I was one of few who could actually reach the overhead cabins.

Yeah...soooo...who brought the white guy...

I also noticed that everything being said in English by the flight crew was soon followed with a Japanese translation. The sudden realization of what I was about to get myself into followed. Not that I wasn't aware that this would become my the situation, but the reality of it is what hit so hard. This is the last time I'll be in a public domain where English is the primary language. My stomach knotted a little.

I slept the majority of the flight (9 of the 11 hours) since my body is pretty conditioned to automatically sleep on planes. The other couple hours were spent being very hungry, reading magazines and eavesdropping on everyone's Japanese conversations.

Man. That's a lot of Japanese.

Man. How come there aren't any hot Japanese girls on the plane?