Five hours to kill in Tokyo with a visa valid for three months.
Once upon a time I'd have made the most of it, arriving at the gate drunk, wearing a policewoman's helmet and carrying a traffic cone. Today I'm going to seduce this beer instead.
The last 24 hours have been a bit rocky. I moaned at my dad for waking me up half an hour before my alarm, and then had to eat my words when the
D660 north of Beaumont was closed and we had to scramble along the side roads to get to
Bergerac in time for my train.
Which was cancelled.
Which meant we had to scoot to the next station 30 kilometres away. We made it and I caught my connection in
Bordeaux.
Border security confiscated my cologne in Paris and took my fingerprints in Tokyo. Both annoyed me greatly. And the air conditioning at
Narita is set way too high.
I should be back in Auckland in fifteen hours and sitting in my first meeting in nineteen. As charming as this pretty young beer is and as delightful as that prospect is, I think I should have spent another week or two living it up in
Dordogne.
Stupid Simon. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
-SRA. Tokyo, 27/xi 2015. (reposted.)
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10153367159470482
