So as you might maybe possibly know, I now have my dogguns in Japan. The process is long, difficult and, if you don’t do it right, could lead to pent up frustration with little chance of release. I got the shots that she needed as well as the requisite shots, I waited the necessary 180 days, and I informed the airport of the coming meatfluff. After finishing my vacation in freedomville (it was wonderful), I boarded the plane with one dog sized set of organs (rest of the dog included for free!).

In Chicago I needed to change planes so I could switch (from United) to a non-shitty airline (JAL). While waiting for my ticket at the check-in counter I find out that they aren’t expecting my new bundle of whines and fur. You see, I had called both United and JAL and informed them that I will be carrying a very very hairy baby when I come back to Japan. United gave me no problem, but the girl working at JAL said that, even though I called, I didn’t have to since I had already contacted United. Well, there I was in Chicago with proof that she was quite mistaken. It’s a shame I had no way to tell her and then call her a n00b.

This check-in server’s ping sucks, the host is a fagg0t.

However, right after that I found out that I had non-sensually donkey punched myself (it’s possible!), I missed a stamp on one of the pages I had to give to the people in quarantine. Great. So since I now had a day layover I tried to get in touch with the local USDA and set up a time to get the stamps. They were full for the day so I had to wait until the next morning at 8:30 (and my plane left at 10:20). Not much time, but definitely possible. I wasn’t freaking out too much, but it definitely wasn’t as early as I would have liked.

The next morning I decide that I might as well go there as early as possible since I had nothing else to do. I thought that if I arrive when they just open they might be able to fit me in an earlier time slot and I could rest easier; at 10 minutes to 8:00, this happened. And it’s quite fortunate that it happened because I found out that my vet missed a signature and they wouldn’t stamp without a signature. I now had 90 minutes to find a vet open before 9:00am, go get a form signed, come back and get the forms stamped before making it to the airport. After some frantic calling, I found a place about a mile away that was open. I called a cab and made my way there.

An artists rendition of my taxi

My cab driver, Gunther, a naturalized citizen from Palestine, was a very nice guy that understood my predicament and helped me get to the vet (and to all my other destinations as well). The vet, while being cautious and methodical, filled out the vital areas as quickly as he could grasp what was needed of him.

At the USDA, I finally received the seals that I so desperately needed. At a price of $110, they were pointlessly expensive (it took them 5 minutes to do it) but I wasn’t in a mood to care at that point; I was running out of time and I preferred to not spend money on a new ticket to happy land. I arrived at the airport with little time to spare. It looked as though everything would be fine.

Or maybe this was just a ruse to pull me in to a bigger trap.

By the way, if you see something in parenthesis next to a Katakana word that means that the word that everyone uses is abbreviated. I’ll talk more on this later as there are some very interesting abbreviated words, but for now if you want to know the full word(s) they’re in the parenthesis.

この飛行機は故障中です。キャノンをお使いください。
このひこうきはこしょうちゅうです。キャノンをおつかいください。
This airplane is currently out of service. Please use the cannon.

プレステをあんまり使わなかったからヤフオクで売った。
プレステ（プレーステーション）をあんまりつかわなかったからヤフオク（ヤフーオークション）でうった。
I didn’t use my Playstation that much so I sold it on Yahoo Auctions.

ピエロと一緒にサッカをする場合は罠に気をつけて。
ピエロといっしょにサッカをするばあいはわなにきをつけて。
If you’re playing soccer with a clown make sure to watch out for traps.

あなたは看護士として。そして、僕は患者とする。注射をしてね〜〜
あなたはかんごしとして。そして、ぼくはかんじゃとする。ちゅうしゃをしてね〜〜
You be the nurse and I’ll be the patient. Give me a shot please.

Now go turn the tables and use use on unused users.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. The patron saint of airplanes (different than the patron saint of traveling) must’ve been a bumbling fool before he haphazardly darwinized himself and made his way to sainthood (he achieved sainthood only because his mother kept nagging the pope).

I start off with four bags as I make my way to the conveyer belt that will whisk away my checked luggage. I check one of the bags and continue on my way with three bags. For those of you who travel frequently, you should notice that I have one too many carry-on bags. Of course, no one cares and I make it all the way onto the plane with three bags (and a coat, mind you) before there’s trouble.

I try fitting the largest piece into overhead storage, which doesn’t even come close to fitting so I have to check that bag. I then find out that the plane has a pressure malfunction. The pilots, being ever so optimistic, believe that the mechanics can fix it. When they don’t, everyone on board has to get off the plane and get on another, larger, plane already partially full. Being the sauvé gentleman that I am, I make the transfer without a problem.

After a short flight, I end up in the nicest of airports in the one of the worst of locales, Detroit; the Detroit airport must be the place where weary Detroitians go to forget where they live. Anyways, so I sit around in the illustrious Detroit airport until 5:15PM (delayed from 3:40PM) engaging in conversation with my airline compatriots. This may come as a shock to some, but not everyone has heard of Andrew W K. A long, curly-haired, dude was going to Osaka and Tokyo for three days to review a big music festival in Japan and a concert by Andrew W K, who he had not heard of before the knowledge of his sojourn.

I then board the plane with a horde of Asians and take my seat, which happens to be in the same row as an Asian girl wearing a pleated skirt. Some people might think that this is the part where I become a master of sex and she is working for me on my sex plantation, but you are incorrect! Unbeknownst to you, until now, is that I am sitting next to her mother, who for all I know is a mute.

After a good cry, I take a gander at the flight literature located within the pocket in front of me. I find out that airline crossword puzzles are stupid easy, that SkyMall is expensive, and that the in-flight movies, RV (why Robin Williams, why), involve me wanting to make an origami knife out of my barf bag and stab my eyes out. I decide to take option B, which involved taking a sleeping pill.

Upon touchdown in Osaka, I make my way through immigration and customs without a problem. NOVA (the company I work for) puts me up in a hotel for the night with the other newcomers. In my tiny hotel room, I settle in and turn on the telly to see what’s on. With CNN being channel 1 of 12, I naturally start there only to find out about the terror attack that wasn’t. I somehow managed to miss having to toss away my lovely deodorant and fluoride toothpaste by a couple of hours. Lucky me.