Japan: 0520

Thursday, April 10, 2003.

The alarm clock reads 5:20. Thursday morning is not starting well.

I overslept.

I’m supposed to meet Kenny & Kirk in the lobby in ten minutes. Justin and I have to catch a 6:34 train to Yonezawa. I have ten minutes to shower, shave, brush my teeth and get into a suit. I start running water in the shower, then start throwing items into my backpack … camera, batteries, laptop, power adapters … everything I need for today’s trip.

I normally use my time in the shower to think and plan my day. I didn’t have that luxury this morning. My four minutes in the hotel bathroom looked like a Tasmanian Devil running through a car wash. I didn’t bother with any elaborate hair care, so I’m sure the wind will play havoc with my head.

Kenny called about 5:32, politely inquiring when I would make an appearance in the lobby. I’m sure he wanted to yell “hey blonde boy… where the hell are you, we’re going to be late” into his tiny cell phone, but that just isn’t a polite thing for a Japanese man to do. I informed him I was on the way down.

I had to make a snap decision on the way out of the hotel … jacket or briefcase? I know it’s cooler up towards Yonezawa, but I might need the briefcase for a demonstration. So I grabbed the possibly useless leather case full of computer equipment and dashed to the elevator.

My complementary copy of The Daily Youmuri was waiting outside my door. I grabbed the English language newspaper as I prepared to drop twenty floors towards street level. A color picture of a toppled statue of Saddam Hussein is on the front page. I watched American tanks help Iraqi citizens topple the statue live on BBC News.

If it wasn’t for my boss calling me at midnight, that fallen statue would have been the last image in my mind before daylight. Apparently Mike’s experience in Asian business does not translate into remembering that it’s dark in my world when it’s daylight in his. I wasn’t awake enough to be pissed off, so I sleepily recounted highlights of the last few meetings.

I did make a point to tell Mike not to call Justin. Business travel is the enemy of proper diet, and Justin stomach is the latest victim of RFD … Random Food Disorder. He left a mix of M&M’s, fried chicken, rice, sodas and egg sandwiches in a toilet basin at Tokyo Station. The last thing a sick salesman needs is his boss asking why he’s not filing daily reports from the field … despite the fact we’re too busy to return to the office and connect to the Internet.

So my plan for a blissful five hours of sleep was interrupted by a pointless international phone call. I’m sure I can rest some on one of the many express trains I will ride today … not true sleep, but hopefully some rest. We have over five hours of train travel today, all to visit two customers north of Tokyo. I expect to be back at the hotel very late tonight. Most of our trips to Japan end with some sort of office get-together, but I think this one may terminate with less fanfare. Justin and I need to be at Narita airport before 1:00pm … international flights have an annoyingly long check-in procedure.

Just a few more train rides, then I can go home.