The Beginning of a Tale

All tales have a beginning. The tale of my adventures in Japan began nearly a month ago on an ill fated flight to Narita Airport. After an uneventful journey from Washington, DC to Minneapolis, we had finally boarded the plane that was to take us to Japan. The higher powers had other plans, however, and after half an hour of waiting in the crowded, un air conditioned vessel, the captain made an announcement. One of the gauges was malfunctioning and they needed to determine the root of the problem before taking off. It was about this time that a faint smell filled the cabin. Looking out the window of the craft, many passengers, including myself, noticed that the right wing was leaking a liquid which evaporated upon contact with the ground. The plane’s gas tanks were not working properly and had flooded the wings with fuel. So, after 2 hours of taxiing the airport, we were instructed to vacate the aircraft.

Upon reentering the terminal, I was greeted by a sea of passengers, all struggling for a chance at the counter. Since the JETs made up a large portion of the passengers of this particular flight, we were given a separate counter through which we were broken into teams of 6 and issued hotel, dinner, and transportation vouchers. As the leader of team 4, I led the group to dinner. After a pleasant meal at Chiles, we sought transportation to the hotel. After an hour wait for a shuttle bus, we departed for the Holiday Inn. The driver tore through the streets of Minneapolis at breakneck speeds nearly tipping the van on more than one occasion. When we arrived at the Hotel, we were informed that due to the large number of people using the Shuttles tomorrow morning and the limited resources of the airport, we would have to leave at about 4 am for our 9:30 am flight.

Groggily, I awoke early the next morning at about 3 am. The nearly full moon still shined over the evening sky; this was not a time at which any being should ever have to be awakened. Climbing out of bed, I took note of the bruises on my shoulder and my reddened, raw fingers from carrying my bags all day. Several hours after returning to the airport, my plane finally left, 18 hours late.