We’re well on our way, flying over Canada—my first time over that great country up North—and my first time, with the exception of a four hour cruise into international waters on a Floridian gaming ship, out of the country. I’ve had my first bit of panic at missing bits I forgot to pack, left my voice recorder and the strap for the headphone amp, which means I’m going to have to give up amplified rock over to Jesus. I’m fairly sure you’re not supposed to use earplug headphones on airplanes, something about permanent hearing damage, but no jet engine is going to get between and my Swedish girl rock, so whatever.
My hopes of being able to conquer Japan single-handedly are off to a promising start, as my chubby but solid frame bought me nothing but stares from our mostly Asian flight. I know this is a horrible cliche and will offend half my readers, but I’m going to be a giant in this country, I can already tell. Which is awesome. I had planned on attack some elementary schools sometime this week, but the thought of slapping away dozens of wicked children with a single sweep of my furry arm has totally moved it to from pencil to pen. I have sworn to protect you all from children wherever they may be, and I’m not about to let you down.
The Voltaic solar backpack was a big hit before we even left the gate. When the TSA checkpoint guy stopped me to ask me about it, I thought I had some ‘splainin’ to do, but he was all, “Cool, is that solar?” When I explained that it was, he said, “That’s cool! Why?” Hopefully, as I do not speak the language in the country of my destination, I’ll be able to capitalize on the international icebreaker of ‘Ooh, shiny!’ I have the Eclipse bag with me, too. I’m looking forward to a little compare and contrast.
I’m about 100% certain I won’t be allowed in the country. I’ve had a passport for about five years, but it’s never been used. I got it when I was supposed to go to Israel with my Baptist parents to visit the sites As Seen On KJV, but some sort of dead tourist advisory was issued and we went to the other Holy Land, Newark. But that trip made me realize I loved New York, and moving to New York led to Gizmodo, which is why I’m on this flight to Japan.
But that’s a long time for a government-issued bit of paperwork to exist, especially in this heady era when even the defining documents of our nation may be modified because boys touching boys is gross. For all I know passports aren’t even valid anymore and I’ll be asked to live inside a terminal while Nick—who is British and therefore allowed into any country by dint of a global love of castles—galavants around the city founding provinces.
I’ve prepared myself as much as any self-critical worldly yokel can, I guess. Snap judgments are easy, but it seems like a waste of an opportunity to gravitate towards a pre-supposed experience. What I’m saying is, I’m going to drink lots of different beers I’ve never had before, even if they don’t taste good.
We’re 90 minutes into a 13 hour flight. Those sleeping pills are starting to sound pretty good.
A few hours later…
Everyone in Shibuya is thin and extremely fashionable. I both love it and hate it here already. But oh! The gadgets I will have to show you soon. I went to what appeared to be a drug store tonight and saw stuff we won’t get for 6 months, if ever. First I need sleep.
