I know the shtick has been done before, but it`s worth repeating: travelling sucks. Especially around here.

I am talking, of course, about the process itself, not the end result. This Hokuriku region is cursed by God. It is like a snowy bog, a cesspoool of wetness that sucks everything in and lets none escape. When I was trying to get out and back to America this winter vacation, I honestly felt like some force was prohibiting me. I had all my tickets in a row, my route was planned, I took a taxi from my home at an early hour, I sat, waiting for my train, in a jolly little cafe near the station. "Hey," I thought to myself, "why don't I check to see when my train is coming, just incase there has been a schedule change."

Little did I know my life was about to crumble.

"Hi sir," I said, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, like a baby doe about to take its first frolick in the beautiful snowy woods of Christmas, "I just wanted to make sure my train is still coming at 9:15."

He looks at his schedule.

"No, it's not." He says.
"Uh, oh," I said, "It's a good thing I asked you then! How late will it be, praytell?"
"It's not coming."
"...what?"
And then that terrible word that every Japanese person seems to know:

"Cancelled."

My beautiful Christmas forest had become a prison, a prison where that bastard that shot bambi's mother was silently stalking my doe-eyed, bushy tailed ass. I had to run.

"Find me another train. I must get out." I said.
"No other train today. Only tomorrow. Sorry."

Sorry?!? I have a plane to catch! I wanted to grab him by his prim lapelled jacket and beat his sailor-hatted head about that little ticket room.

"Refund me then, I'm going to the airport."

I jumped in a cab and went to the airport, where I was promptly told that every flight was grounded.

"For sure?" I asked.
"You can wait and see, if you want." The ticket lady said.

No, i did not want to wait and see. But I had no other choice. I sat on standby for two hours, and by the grace of God I caught a flight at 5pm to Haneda. Now this would have been all well and good if Haneda airport was where I needed to be, but it wasn't, I needed to be in Narita airport. After I landed I furiously dashed to the bus station for a Narita express, I caught one that was literally about to pull out of the station when I ran on. I could still perhaps save the day.

It was 7:55 by the time I arrived at Narita airport, my flight was at 7:15, but perhaps there were delays, maybe I could still make it! I ran to the United desk.........And it was totally dark. Everything was closed. I sat staring at its darkness, grinding my jaw and flexing my fist for about 15 seconds. I walked to the information desk.

"Hi there. Why is there nobody at the United desks?"
"Oh, its closed. They close at 8pm."
"8pm."
"yes, 8pm."

Now I ask you, gentle reader, what kind of ridiculous, backwoods, asshatted, scum-sucking-salamader of an airline company closes its desks at an International Airport at 8pm?

The worst part? My flight was an hour delayed. While I was talking to that chick at the info desk, it was sitting on the tarmac.

Her lovely advice? "Get a hotel room." Gee, thanks.

I walked, despondent, to the hotel desk downstairs. I had been caught, and shot, in what was once my winter wonderland.

"It's been really busy here," the guy behind the desk said.
"You don't say."
He hands me a reservation, "sorry it's so expensive," he says, "It's all we have left."
"Fine. Merry Christmas."

I paid my fee and took the shuttle to my airport hotel, gave my bags to the bellhop and moved immediately to the bar.

Thankfully, my family at home managed to call United and switch my flight to the next day, for a price. Had they not been able to do this, since I had no way of contacting the Tokyo offices (they were closed too, conveniently), at the stroke of midnight I would have lost my ticket alltogether. As it happened, I got onto a flight the next day at five pm.

All in all, I travelled for 36 hours, saw six other JETs that I knew at various intervals (and all of whom eventually left before me), and I really got to know the layout of Narita airport, but I did finally get home.

My vacation was wonderful. I saw my family, my lovely girlfriend came into town for a week, and I ate and drank my face off. I even managed to go up snowboarding once to take advantage of "the best snow in a decade," that seems to come every three years or so. It was precisely what I needed, especially considering that I stepped on a scale at my house (for the first time in six months) and saw, to my horror, that I had lost ten full pounds over here, eating nothing but noodles and pickled things. I did my best to remedy that while at home.

Before I leave you, a word about transpacific flights: they invariably suck. I have done this pacific crossing seven times now, and the only one that has been pleasurable for me was when I was bumped into the upper cabin business class, and I was only a 5` 11" runt. Now, at 6 foot 3 inches, even three "import strength" taqueray and tonics don't help. On my flight back here someone kept farting, every twenty minutes or so, for 10 and a half hours. I put the air blaster right on my face, but it was no help. Who farts for ten straight hours? I was embarrassed that the tiny asian woman next to me might think it was me, until I started to think that maybe it was her. Ten straight hours of fart smell will do that to a man, it turns everyone into a suspect, makes you go a bit crazy.

Long story short, I think we would all be much happier in a huge boat. I don't care how long the trip is as long as it's not in an airplane. On a boat I could walk all about, visit the poolside bar, and perhaps play a little bit of shuffleboard on the deck. It would be a pleasant experience.

Anyway, it's all over now and I have returned. It occurs to me that I have absolutely nothing left to teach the whelps, not that they cared in the first place. I could probably go over the entire first six months of lessons, word for word, and it would be entirely new material for the 40% of kids who either slept through every class, or didn't bother to show up at all.

It's nice to be back, but I'm gonna have to work really damn hard to make the next seven months worth the farty plane ride over.