I’m in my pod and thank god for it. 13 hours in a plane and why should I talk to my fellow man? Frequent flyer miles have leveled the playing field. The .Admiral Club lounge is no longer the oasis of calm for work and reflection
It’s full of teenagers attached to their iphones and yoga-panted soccer moms catching up with their girlfriends on What’s App.
BUT the pod creates a haven for those 13 hours. You ooze yourself into it and it reaches atound and envelops you. There are dials and touch screens everywhere. Your space is at an angle so you can actually inhabit a deep area beside and under the pod person in front of you. It makes a subterranean cave in the sky. Here are my compression-stockinged feet deep in that cave well.
7 episodes of BIg Little Secrets, 3 glasses of champagne, 3 meals, the full Sunday NYTimes, amd alas only three hours of sleep and I am here. I wa challenging my Third Ager self yo navigate in Japan. Things Change
English is everywhete. You can finf it lurking in the middle of the ubiquitous signage at sirports, hotels and even on posted street maps. An American woman was complaining about the signs and I just happened to espress gratitude thst Englush was there at all. I felt extremely competent. I maneuvered my way through the JR rsil system. So proud
PLEASE. This is Japan. Everything works
The JR rail office has EXTRA workers whose sole job is to hand you a clip board with your registration form. People are all over the airport and train station just to help you. English comes right out of their mouths and they smile at you. EVERYTHING I reserved or ordered was where it was supposed to be-on time, ready and complete. Even the street signs were eady to follow as was the labyrinth that is the Tokyo train station. After 24 hours on the road I walked directly to the hotel. I AM HERE.
