Long day in the morning
It's Tuesday in Tokyo.
The flight to Sydney was uneventful. We had enough time for a splash
of champagne in the lounge and then onto the plane. We had a row of
three seats to ourselves. I gave DD the window and took the aisle,
and the middle row was for sprawling. Overcast and once we cleared
that, the sun was setting on the golden side and dark creeping up the
other. Sydney was bright lights by the time we arrived.
They served a snack. Heaven knows how - it was twenty seven minutes
between takeoff and landing, and the cabin crew hadn't finished
handing out the things before the captain ordered them to prepare the
cabin for landing. I slugged my gourmet plastic orange juice down in
one go, and held onto the bag of snacks - mini pretzel knots, golden
roasted chickpeas, and a tiny muesli bar - against future need.
Terminal was closing down on a Sunday evening. At least the shops
were, and the one interesting shop in the whole place, the
Metropolitan Museum of Art shop, was shut and shuttered against the
barbarians of the empty hours.
Oh well. We only had a minute or two in that awful bus lounge before
hopping on the transit bus to be the naughty kids in the back row. Not
a lot to see in the dark but some vague shapes may have been mighty
airliners and there were rows of winking lights in all directions.
Through security and emigration, brief glance at giant toblerones and
kangaroo neckwarmers in the dutyfree shops, and then we were into the
lounge. Spoilt for choice on the menu, but one item struck as both as
highly appropriate. I had a flute of Taittinger and a bowl of dumpling
soup and then the waiter delivered our meals.
Yes, I know, first class lounge and we had a burger and chips. It was
a wagyu burger, and it was superb. Knives and forks were provided, but
it was easier to pick it up and eat it in our hands. Burger style.
DD hit the library full of coffee table books and I got online. With
half an hour before boarding, I thought to have a shower and shave.
"Best be quick, sir," they said at the desk, "We'll be calling your
flight in the next ten minutes."
I had the world's quickest shower - my first shower for a couple of
weeks, actually, and I'd been dreaming of luxuriating under the hot
stream for a long time - and barely a scratch of a shave. Then we were
gone from Floungeland and walking down to gate 31, which turned out to
be pleasantly close.
Stood in line for a minute before I realised that the premium queue
was empty, and we went straight through. Our seats were in the first
few rows of the economy cabin, and we had window seats on the left,
one behind the other. Husband and wife had the corresponding aisle
seats and suggested that we could rearrange ourselves to sit together.
Nonononono, I replied - I'd selected those window seats months before!
OK - pause for a bit. DD wants to get down to Shibuya, so I'll sign
off for the rest of the day. Probably get back online in the
afternoon.
The flight to Sydney was uneventful. We had enough time for a splash
of champagne in the lounge and then onto the plane. We had a row of
three seats to ourselves. I gave DD the window and took the aisle,
and the middle row was for sprawling. Overcast and once we cleared
that, the sun was setting on the golden side and dark creeping up the
other. Sydney was bright lights by the time we arrived.
They served a snack. Heaven knows how - it was twenty seven minutes
between takeoff and landing, and the cabin crew hadn't finished
handing out the things before the captain ordered them to prepare the
cabin for landing. I slugged my gourmet plastic orange juice down in
one go, and held onto the bag of snacks - mini pretzel knots, golden
roasted chickpeas, and a tiny muesli bar - against future need.
Terminal was closing down on a Sunday evening. At least the shops
were, and the one interesting shop in the whole place, the
Metropolitan Museum of Art shop, was shut and shuttered against the
barbarians of the empty hours.
Oh well. We only had a minute or two in that awful bus lounge before
hopping on the transit bus to be the naughty kids in the back row. Not
a lot to see in the dark but some vague shapes may have been mighty
airliners and there were rows of winking lights in all directions.
Through security and emigration, brief glance at giant toblerones and
kangaroo neckwarmers in the dutyfree shops, and then we were into the
lounge. Spoilt for choice on the menu, but one item struck as both as
highly appropriate. I had a flute of Taittinger and a bowl of dumpling
soup and then the waiter delivered our meals.
Yes, I know, first class lounge and we had a burger and chips. It was
a wagyu burger, and it was superb. Knives and forks were provided, but
it was easier to pick it up and eat it in our hands. Burger style.
DD hit the library full of coffee table books and I got online. With
half an hour before boarding, I thought to have a shower and shave.
"Best be quick, sir," they said at the desk, "We'll be calling your
flight in the next ten minutes."
I had the world's quickest shower - my first shower for a couple of
weeks, actually, and I'd been dreaming of luxuriating under the hot
stream for a long time - and barely a scratch of a shave. Then we were
gone from Floungeland and walking down to gate 31, which turned out to
be pleasantly close.
Stood in line for a minute before I realised that the premium queue
was empty, and we went straight through. Our seats were in the first
few rows of the economy cabin, and we had window seats on the left,
one behind the other. Husband and wife had the corresponding aisle
seats and suggested that we could rearrange ourselves to sit together.
Nonononono, I replied - I'd selected those window seats months before!
OK - pause for a bit. DD wants to get down to Shibuya, so I'll sign
off for the rest of the day. Probably get back online in the
afternoon.