On the road with the Effusive Complimenter to Japan. Or something like it.

1 Apr

Naturally she had turned up at 4am. Just as I had let my head hit the pillow. And she came in and pirouetted around my bed, splaying limbs akimbo. She refused to sleep instead forcing me to play “retarded kittens”. I shan’t explain more than it requires me to say “eeehn! eeeehn! eeehn!” and pout a lot.

Naturally, we also slept in the next morning. The same morning we had to be at the airport rather early. The same morning we had to get through a city that was in the midst of closing down and shutting off much needed freeway entrances.

Naturally, for it is par for the course, we smoked madly, shrieked and gave sterling insults to other drivers on the way to the airport. I decried one has being poorly accessorised. It matters not that I had no idea what they looked like, let alone how they accessorised. You can just tell some things.

Somehow not only managed to make it just on time but managed to actually look sufficiently helpless enough to convince a airport worker to escort me to the front of a check in queue ahead of 100 other people. Yes, I expect you to hate me for that….I don’t wear accessories though so you’ll have to come up with another insult. May I suggest flibbertygibbit?

As it was, karma had a delightful side swipe for me. While waiting an interminably long time for my connecting flight in Sydney, I was desperate for a smoke. Apparently they have lovely smokey and dingy rooms for the afflicted and cruelly name them “lounges”. After wandering in increasingly frantic circles, someone directed me to it. Oh, how I skipped! How I skittered! I was like a little pony tottering with joy! There was a song in my heart, I tell you, and it was singing glories and hallelujahs to the impending post-binge headrush I was going to give myself.

Until I found out Sydney Airport had permanently closed it. THE DAY BEFORE! (Yes, caps are required, Goddess. They just are.)

Naturally the universe was telling me something and, for once, it wasn’t about hemming my trousers. So began my love for the nicotine patch. What joyful felicity that lil sprite brings…

I almost cried when I got off in Osaka and saw this:

In news that will bring joy to many a person’s heart, I find my vocabulary has been reduced to 1% of previous capacity as I am restricted to what is in the phrasebook and, in my short few hours here, have not come across many English speakers.

Case in point: found my delightfully dingy accomodation. Spoke with night manager. Who can’t speak a word of English (which he shouldn’t have to). I booked over a week ago. I know this IS the hotel I was supposed to be staying at. But despite looking EXACTLY (and I mean evil cousin Sabrina from Paris exactly) like the hotel, it has a different name. So I had to book in again.

However, there is something liberating about only having to provide single answer responses or questions.

Kitsen? (smoking?)
Arigato (thanks)
Eeenh! (I’m a fuckwit Westerner)

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