Maxwell's Lost Again

They wouldn’t let me leave Narita. I couldn’t get a straight answer. I pleaded with three desk agents, told them I had an 8 hour layover, just wanted to go have lunch and see the city. They just smiled and shook their heads, gave short incomprehensible non-explanations. I resigned myself to a miniature Terminal experience, decided to relax and reflect on all that had brought me to the Tokyo Airport on my 21st birthday.

I had spent nearly 2 months in Chiang Mai, doing Muay Thai and then partying. A beautiful British girl seemed to share my orbit. After chancing upon each other a second time we decided we needed to go somewhere together on purpose. I agreed to meet her in the tiny town where she was teaching English. The rural bus journey was a confused blur I less than half remember, but my time in the town with her is clear. We spent it drinking, dancing, and ignoring everyone around us. I was introduced to dozens of people without remembering a name. I wanted another dozen nights just like that, but the world has no respect for timing and I had a flight to catch. We forced our hungover young selves onto another bus. We spent the long ride chatting over nothing and everything, the minutes melting away around her. Eventually they began dragging, as I realized there was no restroom. As always, I got too enthusiastic at the snack stop, had to try all sorts of weird soft drinks I’d never seen before. Hours passed in anguish, until we finally arrived in Bangkok on April 19^th, 2013. I had never been more relieved. 

I had two days left being 20 years old. To celebrate we got a cheap bottle of wine and a boutique hotel near Sukhumvit, the area surrounding Bangkok’s longest street. I picked one away from the red light districts and busier shopping streets. I enjoyed a private shower after months of communal ones and wandered the neighborhood while she was off doing something for her visa. I bought a pair of orange chinos, figuring I could use a second pair of pants after four months in the South Asian heat.

We spent the night together with the wine, forgetting everything Bangkok had to offer, content in our room. She told me all about why she left England, how she ended up teaching in Thailand. I admired her, her strength to get away from things, to stay in her new place, to find meaning and purpose through it all. I lost myself as I thought ahead to when I’d miss her red hair and reservations. She left early in the morning to run more errands and I stood her up at MBK later that night. She was in a McDonalds waiting for me to get wifi. I looked at the sign then walked off for the airport. Maybe I am a flake. Maybe I was overcome with fear of genuine emotion. Maybe I just wanted to avoid a final goodbye. I never saw her again.

I took the Sky Train to Suvarnabhumi, fully packed, in my brand new orange pants. Realizing I miscalculated a time difference, I went to sleep on a balcony among a throng of backpackers for the 4 hours until I was allowed to enter the terminal. After a hazy eternity on the floor, I climbed out of my sleeping cocoon to admire the soaring ceilings and wonder for the umpteenth time how I ended up here.

I was heading to Paris with a layover in Tokyo Narita. Originally the plan was to visit old friends in Seoul but a missile threat frightened my mother to pieces so I agreed to change my ticket. This resulted in one of the greatest birthday gifts of my young privileged life.  As I boarded I found myself directed left into the front of the plane. I spent six hours reclined, resting peacefully, eating heartily. I have not flown first class international since but one of my most direct life goals is to experience that again. I arrived in Tokyo Narita feeling refreshed. 

I had hoped as any young traveler might to go out and see any bit of Tokyo. These hopes were quickly dashed, I set off to fill my belly and pass my last few hours of being 20 in all time zones with a buzz. I tried to remember what time it was at home, if I were old enough yet to drink there.

I had been away from home nearly 5 months. Before I had briefly stopped home for the winter holidays, I had spent 3 in Central America, my crash course in solo travel. I still struggled to leave my room some days and nights but the fears of what I’d find in the world quieted. I was growing more content with moving one direction at a time, Asia had made me more natural at entering a city alone then leaving with friends and contacts. I spent less time hiding in my bunk, afraid of being silently judged by strangers, feeling somewhere between a ghost and a clown. I still got distracted from my goals but my steps forward were my longest strides. I was headed somewhere. I found confidence and a liking for myself.

The airport sushi tasted no better than what I got at the Siam Paragon Mall but the people watching was wholly new. Small well-dressed families running frantically about, frazzled backpackers, business people and salarymen stuck in cell phones yet nimbly avoiding the throng of obstacles. Eventually, I met a guy named Ugo and we exchanged stories. I told him about the notebooks I lost and their contents, my plans to someday finish a story. He told me of his travels and his work, a start-up in Atlanta. I was full of optimism and we eventually decided to go explore on our own. I wandered to a cigarette vending machine, bought some and marveled at the Japanese change as I puffed half of one in the enclosed smoking section. I decided to finally meander my way toward my gate. As I approached I saw signs for the Delta Sky Lounge. I went to investigate the power of my new ticket. A lady smiled at me and waved me in.

I found ample, plush seating, huge windows overlooking the gates, a small buffet, and a machine that pours perfect glasses of beer (for free). I signed up for a time slot to shower and got deeply acquainted with the beer machine and the window toward the runway. Hours passed smoothly as I sipped and messaged all the friends I’d made. 21 years old, next stop: Paris.