A Bad Beginning

It was, truly. I have always tried to preserve the romantic ideal of traveling abroad, but if one were to judge a beginning, one must judge that mine was bad.

The plane flights were lovely. Really. The only one that was a bit crowded was the small plane from Milwaukee to Houston. Although my time in the airport was barely enough to get me to the gate for last call to Tokyo, it was still unrushed. My Tokyo flight was the long one (14 hours), and the seats on the 777 Boeing (or is it Boeing 777?) were spacious, with plenty of leg room. Best of all, I had an aisle seat with no one next to me. Over by the window was a girl stopping in Japan who did her best to curl into a ball for the entire 14 hours when she wasn’t playing Bookworm on the entertainment system. Ah yes, this entertainment system was much better than I imagined. On my flight to China several years back, we didn’t even have our own screens, and 3 movies played, Big Momma’s House 2, King Kong, and Glory Road. This entertainment system had TV show episodes (The Tudors, Castle, The Mentalist, 30 Rock, The Office, Project Runway, Jamie Oliver, etc.), gaming (which I’ll admit I did not investigate closely), music, and over  150 movies. Not just tiresome new releases like The Bounty Hunter (which I did see someone watching), but also Classics like To Kill a Mockingbird, Adam’s Rib, La Dolce Vita, and World Cinema like La Vie En Rose, Babel, and a staggering amount of unimpressive Japanese and Chinese cinema. I watched one of those, Look for a Star, a story of a billionaire who falls in love with a dancer, hiding his true identity as a Very Rich Man, until midway in the story. When she finds out, there’s this whole King Cophetua and Beggar Maid thing which possibly could have been resolved had it not been for the real screw in the works . . . his company wants her to sign a pre-nup.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course. It’s just my shareholders.”

There were two romantic subplots with billionaire’s chauffeur and his chief CEO person. The chauffeur’s story was a tiny bit boring, as he struggled with whether or not he could accept this lovely woman he meets on a blind date who has a daughter.

The CEO, a woman who obviously is too stressed by the demands of her challenging, high-profile job, obviously needs that man who will see past her Wicked Witch (her nickname) exterior and care for those strangling insecurities under the surface. In her case, the perfect man is the substitute electrician/handyman who drills and pounds at inconvenient times outside the hallway, and then protects her from a cold by giving her bare feet a towel to stand on. He also gives her tea from his village, and paints a talisman of their love, while struggling with his own securities about their different socioeconomic positions.

I have gone on too long. To conclude: All three subplots resolved at a reality show (game?) called something like Trust in Love, or Take a Chance, or something like that.

And then, I believe, there was dancing.

Look for a Star was not the only film I watched, but I’m afraid it may have been the most memorable, more so than the 3-hour Italian masterpiece by a director who sings music I do not hear.

My flight to Guam does not bear mentioning; although when I got to Guam, myself and a scattered few had to wait outside for the gates for almost 3 hours because after a certain time they just close the whole gate thing down, opening up after midnight. I had never heard of such a thing, but I think most people aren’t really interested in manning Gucci stores in the airport with almost no customers. Our flight left at 2:30, and I was set to arrive in Saipan at 3:30, after almost 30 hours of traveling.

Well, I did arrive, and so did my luggage, safe and sound. And then I waited on the curb for 45 minutes, while no one picked me up. And then I went inside and tried calling everyone I could think of, on the world’s most expensive pay phone. Seriously. $100 later, I still had not connected with anyone on the island, and so I sat in the airport for the next 3 hours or so, too tired to even think straight. I really had not slept much on the trip, about 5 hours split into 45 minute segments. I really was not in a convenient frame of mind, I’ll admit. One does try to have a good attitude, but after no sleep, little edible food, and way too many hours since a shower, it’s a little bit difficult. Anyway, the plan I settled upon was to wait until daylight and take a taxi to the school when I could be sure someone would be around. Even in my sleep-deprived state I could tell this was a good plan, although 4:00-in-the-morning-despair required a few desperate tears shed, much to the consternation of the man running the little convenience store inside the airport. (Never say I don’t tell all).

It was a mistake, of course; someone forgot to let someone know who was supposed to let someone else know that that was the day I was coming in. And there’s no way I could count the number of apologies I have since received for those couple hours. Also, it led me to me getting a nicer place to stay in for the first day. And the world’s happiest no-hot-water shower. So I can still consider traveling idyllic, right?