Japan Airlines Flight Attendants

In 1997 I flew Japan Airlines (JAL) to Manila with an overnight layover at Narita International, Tokyo. Their flight attendants are lovely and wear stylish, but conservative uniforms.

The plane got in around 4pm. I went through customs and got outside just as the Hotel Nikko’s bus pulled up. I grabbed a seat near the front.

At the time, JAL had a subsidiary called  JALways Reso’cha with tropically painted 747s. Their flight attendants had very beautiful uniforms with big, colorful tropical hats. While I was waiting, teams of girls started boarding the bus as their flights came in. Every single one of them walked past me to get to the back of the bus.

The ride to the hotel was paradise. I could hear them happily chattering away behind me. That was the day I decided female Japanese is the most beautiful language on the planet.

Fatal error #1: Always sit at the back of the bus. I would have had a longer view as they came up the aisle and I could have observed them during the 15 minute ride to the Hotel. Optimistically, I decided there was no way I would miss paying a visit to the hotel bar that evening.

I got off the bus and checked in. Fatal error #2. Don’t be in a hurry to check in at a hotel. The line of JAL girls behind you should be in front of you.

I put my stuff up in the room and came down, had dinner and went back up to my room. It was still early, so I showered and fell asleep (fatal error #3) watching the Japanese news. When I woke up it was well after 11pm and I got up to the bar as fast as I could.

It was empty except for an old Australian having a whisky. I joined him and ordered a coke. The Australian had been there all night. “Nothing much happening up here,” he said.

These are the events that shape my life.

Carma

My carma seems to be at an all-time low.

I left a little earlier than usual for work today.  I noticed a screw stuck into Xiaoyu’s portside front tire.  That’s driver’s side to you cake-eating civilians.  Unless you’re from Japan, Hong Kong, or the UK, in which case it’s the other side. 

So I drove the 1.8 miles back home and switched Xiaoyu for Darth, cancelling out the being early to work.

The good news is that Costco fixed the tire for free.  Also, they balanced and rotated all four tires.  And they filled the tires with nitrogen.  All of this for no charge.

I had to go to San Francisco tonight to meet someone for a former business colleague of mine.  I was on the sketchy part of 6th in the heart of the Tenderloin.  Traffic was pretty thick and the sidewalks were full of this neighborhood’s typical characters, mostly druggies and street people.  A police car pulled out of a side street and got behind me with his lights flashing.  I pulled over thinking he wanted to get by.  Nope, he was pulling me over. 

I got a ticket because there was somebody in the crosswalk with me.  What?  I didn’t see anybody in the crosswalk with me.  I wasn’t talking on the phone or fiddling with the radio.  Maybe there was someone in the crosswalk with me.  How would I know?  I know for a fact there was nobody with 10 feet of my car.  I had cars beside me and in front of me.  It stinks because nothing can be proven.  I haven’t gotten a ticket in years.  I do full stops at stopsigns.  I use my turn signals.  I asked the cop for a break.  No cigar.  Bad carma.

I was so irritated and in a foul mood.  And I still had to meet this lady at a Starbucks.  I was meeting her for coffee so she could get some information from me about my job.  She is considering something similar.  Turns out she just moved here from Korea a month ago and so far was disappointed in the Korean restaurants at Japantown.  I asked her if she had eaten dinner and she hadn’t and neither had I so we went to Jang Soo BBQ way out there on the other end of Geary.

She seemed impressed by the authenticity of the restaurant.  I told her I didn’t even want to open the menu and she should do the ordering.  We ended up having such an enjoyable (and spicy) meal, I forgot I was supposed to be in a bad mood.

She liked Xiaoyu, by the way, the car that had given me a flat tire and a traffic ticket.  Also, we found easy parking near the restaurant.  This weekend I’ll give Xiaoyu an oilchange and I’m sure my carma will improve.

I like to say that eating ethnic foods can be an experience kind of like traveling.  A culinary mini-trip.  I don’t often think of it from a reverse perspective.  I’m happy I was able to show a lovely new San Franciscan a place she told me reminded her of the restaurants “back home.” 

I’ll take karma over carma any day. 

An Open Letter to my Tita Milen

09 April 2007

Dear Tita Milen:

I’m looking forward to your visit this summer because you know I love spending time with you and Tito Froily.

I know you don’t want to ride in the Miata and will not try to pressure you about it too much but, I know you’d enjoy it.  We could cruise over to the place that sells pecan pies.

Tita, you should know it’s perfectly safe and below is an instructional video showing me with a date riding in the Miata.  Please enjoy the video and I hope you’ll reconsider.

Your nephew,

Alex

Room Number