Dispatch from Tokyo, Japan - There's an App for That

So this is my first time in Tokyo.  

I flew from Chicago next to a young Japanese woman who captivated me.  She downed a beer when we first took off.  Then she promptly went to sleep and slept most of the flight, sitting motionless with her hands cupped on her lap and her head cradled in an inflatable pillow.  At times I wondered if she was even breathing.  But after service of the second meal - noodles with broth - she woke up.  She had missed the service of the hot water for the noodles and didn't appear to speak any English, so I banked some karma points for the days ahead when I wouldn't know the language and got her some hot water.  She was grateful and slurped the noodles and drank the broth in the most elegant way.  Here we were only over Alaska and already I felt like I was in Asia.

I could tell that she wanted to get up to use the washroom but we were boxed in by a rather substantial creature asleep and snoring in the aisle seat.  I could tell she was reluctant to rouse him.  So I squeezed my swollen feet (why does that happen on long flights?) into my shoes, popped my seat belt, and tugged on the guy, who after a few pokes finally woke and moved, and the Japanese lady and I escaped to use the facilities.

Then when we were preparing to land, she pulled out wet wipes from her bag, washed her feet, put on her shoes, dabbed her face with an oil remover, applied some powder, deflated her pillow, and was good to go.  What a sweety.  I wonder what her story is.

Anyhoo, Tokyo's Narita Airport is such a delight - immaculate and efficient.  And the staff are so gracious, from the custom agents, to the baggage handlers, to the bus ticket sellers.  Good Lord, what must the Japanese think when they are at some North American airports?

I break my rule of springing for a cab after a long haul flight and take the bus, since I'm told the cab fare will come in at a whopping $200!  I'm staying at the Hotel Okura in the diplomatic district.  When I arrive, staff come scurrying out to line up and greet the bus like I'm the Earl of Grantham.  I am shepherded into the hotel and greeted with bows across the board.  After checking in with ease, I stand next to my luggage and with a snap of his fingers, this stately looking bell captain in morning clothes assigns a bell hop to show me to my room.  

The bell hop is a young, chubby kid.  And he does not roll my 40 pound bag, but rather picks it up and carries it.  I point to the wheels but he quietly shakes his head and, after an elevator ride operated by a lady in a kimono (honestly, I feel like I am in a movie), we proceed down long corridors with him puffing and panting and sweating profusely.  At one point we pass two housekeeping staff members.  When they see me they back against the wall and bow.  I bow back.  After passing them, I hear them giggle so I guess I didn't do that right, or maybe they were giggling at the bell hop who by now was in a full-on flop sweat.

In broken English, the bell hop shows me my room which is a sanctuary - unbelievably well appointed.  And he proceeds to brief me on all the bells and whistles, while soaked in sweat.  I'm thinking that I should offer him some water.  But before I can, he bows one last time and disappears.  I'm left alone in this beautiful room.  

And this room is wired like mission control for a space flight. I've heard about Japanese electronic toilets but the one in my room is super deluxe!  This is by far the highest tech toilet my tush has ever graced.  It has more buttons than my tv remote.  There are fans, seat warmers, and lights.  And then there are a myriad of bidet options.  I'm not sure what they're all for, but if you press them all at once, a show not unlike the dancing fountains at the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas takes place.  It's an exceedingly civilized experience in the end (pardon the pun).

So I shower and don my yukata (a kimono-type robe for guys and gals) and flop on the bed.  Next to the bed is more electronica - a command center with a remote that allows you to control the lights, open and close the blinds and curtains, turn on music, adjust the temperature, set an alarm, and who knows what else.  I'm sure you could time travel with this thing if you knew how to use the advanced options.

I am blissfully content.  Next thing I remember, I start and jump a little.  I become aware that I'm lying in a puddle of drool.  I must have fallen asleep.  What's that noise.  I look over and the window blinds are going up and down.  What is happening?  Is the room possessed by some spirit?  What's poking into me?  Oh no, okay, I've fallen asleep on the remote.  People outside must think I'm sending some emergency SOS message with the blinds.  Sorry Tokyo for that most inauspicious start.