5,000 of us are strewn around the airport, many in blue or orange sleeping bags that were issued to us, along with Ritz crackers and bottled water, and the silence and glare of the fluorescent lights, the repetitive sound of the escalator next to me, and the pacing of the sleepless create a whole new experience.
Whether it’s cultural or not, time will tell.
What happened, speaking personally, was that, after 21 hours in the air, from Boston and via Seattle, with a three hour diversion to Nagoya, just west of here, I found myself at Narita Airport in the midst of a storm. It wasn’t a storm storm, not by New England standards, but, hey, an inch and a half of snow is an inch and a half of snow.
This just in: 15 inches in some suburbs of Tokyo.
This in mind, officials closed the highways and shut down the trains. Taxis stopped running. All the local hotels were filled.
After cold soba and duck broth–a really delicious version, which for $10, was a delight–we all bedded down beside that previously noted escalator. Ritz crackers and sleeping bags were dispensed, a few caught some shuteye, and hope filled the air.
The quiet is lovely. The floor is hard.
The plan tomorrow is take a train or bus to Tokyo, but we shall see.