So about Christmas...

Back in October, the other JETs on the island started talking about their plans for the Christmas holidays. Two of them were planning to go to Okinawa, one was planning a trip to Kumamoto, and three were talking about going to Thailand or Cambodia. I had decided to go back home for Christmas as soon as I got here. Back in October, I was the only one who was sure he was going home for the break. As it turned out, almost everyone else went home too. How's that for being a trend-setter?

My first major flight was from Fukuoka to Tokyo Narita. That flight left at 8am, and I wanted to be there about an hour in advance. When I tried to check with the airport about what gate I should use, they told me that because of my carrier--American Airlines--I would be flying out of the international terminal. From Fukuoka--in Japan--to Tokyo--in Japan. I should have known better, but I'm used to common sense being foreign to the air travel industry, so I got up an extra hour early to allow myself time to get there. That meant waking up at 4am to catch a cab (they let the subway sleep in until about 6 on weekends). So I arrived at the international terminal crusty-eyed and cranky at 5, to discover the entire terminal pitch black and locked.

I took the cab back to the domestic terminal to discover that, in fact, American Airlines was running what's called a "code share" with Japan Airlines, and that, therefore, I would be flying out of the domestic terminal. Grr.

Apart from that, there wasn't any drama coming back. I say that, even though my flight from Atlanta to Springfield was delayed by an hour. Anyone who's flown out of Atlanta knows how abysmal that place can be, so an hour isn't that bad.

I've met some pretty interesting folks standing in line at airports. When I was waiting for my connection to Geneva back in 2005, for example, I met a Japanese man who taught in England before becoming a self-described pilgrim and using his credit cards to travel the world. This time, in Tokyo, I met a Japanese teacher from Kyoto who was flying all the way to Asuncion--that's Paraguay, folks, 20 hours of flying and the opposite season away--and a 16-year-old half-Japanese half-American kid who was flying to New York to visit family he hadn't seen in twelve years.

My Tokyo-Dallas flight--all twelve hours of it--came equipped with one of those little touch-screen TVs with on-demand movies. I gorged myself on American culture. I had time to watch Ratatouille, Stardust, The Simpsons Movie, and Transformers, and then read 150 pages of Michael Crichton's Travels. I think I got up to pee once--that's how glued I was to the TV. I recommend the first three movies. Transformers is fine, but only if you're in the mood for an awesomely bad comedy.

There were five or six flight attendants, about half of them Asian, the other half white. It being a flight departing Japan, I don't think it's out of line to assume those Asian attendants were Japanese, or at least spoke the language. Despite having three presumably native speakers on board, all of the flight announcements were made by an American guy with an abysmal Japanese accent. I make no claims to being fluent, or having impeccable diction. Though I try my best to be a stickler when it comes to my own pronunciation in a foreign language--something that's gotten me compliments on my Hungarian, Japanese, Spanish, and Cantonese pronunciation--I know I'm far from perfect. Far be it for me to imply otherwise. Power to him for learning the language in the first place (everything except his diction was fine). However, this guy was being paid (presumably well) to speak Japanese in a professional capacity. I can't understand why he didn't just hand the mic over to the native speakers (all of whom were probably dying a little on the inside listening to him). Bah.

My flight departed Tokyo at noon on Saturday, December 21. It arrived in Dallas at 11:30am on Saturday, December 21. I stopped thinking about that after about five minutes, because it made my head hurt.

I hadn't gone through U.S. customs and immigration since June of 05, but man, a lot changed in 2 1/2 years. I'm positive they weren't fingerprinting and photographing every single foreigner visiting the country last time. I can't help but feel like it's a little bit demeaning to be put through something usually reserved for criminals. It's not just the U.S., though--Japan is doing precisely the same thing to non-native Japanese entering the country.

Anyway, I got back to Springfield, and was thrilled to discover that my luggage did in fact make it. I'm serious--it was like opening a big blue 40lbs canvas Christmas present with wheels and a handle. The baggage screeners even went in and rearranged everything, so it looked different.

On the drive back home from the airport, having been with my parents and my sister for all of ten minutes, I decided that I'll never be able to spend Christmas away from home. I'm positive that I'll go nuts if I don't see my family around that time of year.

It's amazing how different it is to have central heating again after going six months without. It makes my apartment in Japan feel like it's on a completely different planet.

This was the first time in about six years that I didn't work at Waffle House on Christmas Day. Everyone laughs and tells me they're sorry whenever I mention that, but it really never has bothered me. Dad's worked every Christmas since my sister and I were born, so we've never known any different. We were always stoked that we could open our presents at 6am before Dad went to work. Once we moved to Missouri, and Mom started working on Christmas too, the options for my sister and I were to a) work at one of the shops with Mom and Dad, or b) sit at home alone on Christmas.

One of my missions for my visit home was to acquire a Wii and Guitar Hero 3. Folks laughed at me on December 26th when I asked around about one. On the 28th, though, I went to Best Buy, Circuit City, 2 Wal-Marts, Target, and Gamestops. Each one of them laughed sympathetically and told me no. Discouraged but not ready to give up, I tried Toys R Us. I walked into the electronics department, right up to the register with a sign that read "WE ARE OUT OF WIIs - DON'T ASK," to the girl standing behind the counter. I looked her in the eye, and as I asked her if they had any Wiis, I noticed she was holding a cell phone in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. She leaned in conspiratorially, grinned back at me, and whispered "We just got a shipment of twenty." She was talking to the guys on the loading dock with the walkie talkie, and texting a friend with the scoop. So I casually waited while she went to the back, wheeled out a case, and handed me the little white box with those three magical letters. After paying, as I walked out of the store, I heard the girl announcing to the store that they had 19 Wiis that had just arrived.

Guitar Hero 3 took a lot more searching, but I eventually got it too. Those two acquisitions satisfied the nerd in me.