1 - Across the Sea

I have a rare skill; preternatural, hereditary or learnt through months of Shaolin training, I don't know. Nevertheless, few can lose time in as accomplished a manner as me. Really, they can't. I arrive at Heathrow a staggering 4 hours before my flight and still end up doing that sprint-cum-jog-so-as-not-to-look-like-you're-trying-too-hard for the departure lounge with barely minutes to spare before they do something terrible like shut the gate and politely smile at me whilst I cry and pound my fists dramatically.

I could blame customs, but I won't. It took an hour, and I met a wonderfully nervy Argentinian chap who kept turning to me and going, "ju think the other line is going quicker? I swear that guy with the hat was way behind us." The time literally flew by. Japan Air had even given me access to the executive lounge, resplendent with its teetering piles of sushi and rows of bottomless gin & tonics. Alas, my magical time-devouring skills left me free to do little more than flail past with all the grace of a flustered Brit late for his sole commitment of the day. Think Bambi on ice.

No worries though, I made it. Even had time to compose myself into appearing like I'd just strolled up to the gate without a care in the world. "Are you *huff* with JET *wheeeeze* too?" I ventured, spying a couple of people about my age. They were, and so were the other five who casually breezed in behind me. Damn, I did have time for those five gin & tonics.

Altgether there were 7 other Brits heading out to join the last JET induction group in Tokyo. It was a wicked bunch, even though we knew we'd only see each other for two days before being scattered around Japan. Hell, we survived the flight, so that's one major bonding experience right there. The astronomical price written on the plane ticket plus the access to the executive lounge (for those not flailing past it in a panicked blur) had got us all thinking, hoping, praying that we might be up in Business Class. Maybe. Please? "No no, dear boy, it's steerage for you. To the back!" they grinned as they shut the iron grill and poked us through the bars with sticks.

I can't complain though, the plane was ace and we were extremely well looked after - my stupidly long legs are my problem. And I finally got that gin & tonic. Well, five.


These three weren't on the plane, but don't they look happy?

Besides, who else gets to sit with the West Bromwich Albion junior team for twelve hours? I tell you, long distance air travel accompanied by a bunch of 10 year olds with thick Midlands accents is quite the experience.

"Coach! Coach! Dave can't eat this," one of them squeaked, his mate gingerly prodding the shrimp curry he'd been given for dinner.

"Why not?" said the coach, a surefire candidate for the UN's "Most Patient Man Who Isn't Kofi Annan" award, "No-one said they were vegetarian."

"Yeah but Coach, Dave's got... beliefs."

Twelve hours guys.

We made it though, safe and sound, with our luggage turning up ahead of us and everything. No nervy Argentinians in the customs line, no hassle from immigration - nice and easy. "Here you go guys," the kindly JET folk beamed as we rolled up with our trolleys, "your transport awaits. Next stop, Tokyo!"

Sweet Christ, I'm six thousand miles from home.