Japanese in the USA

After an uneventful flight from Narita to JFK, blissfully long and quiet and meditative, with an eki-ben of yakitori washed down with sake, and then a layover at the airport, I arrived in Boston and at home a couple of hours prior to midnight.

The noise and color of the airport in Queens were deafening.  People shouted into cell phones.  Here’s one sentence I heard: “Of course I’m not happy about losing the deal!  I lost 15K!”  Why do we need to know that?  And people were huge and lumbering, reminding me of Pooh on his behind with a honey pot between his paws, never sated.

Up at six with the remains of Santarpio’s pizza: Is this one of the best pies in the US of A?  It certainly is, and it makes returning from the airport synonymous with delicious pizza.

After spending the morning writing a bit, soon it will be time to see patients at the hospital and drink more iced black coffee.

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