15 hours in Tokyo

The next time I visit Tokyo on a 15-hour mid-winter layover, I will certainly remember a few things.

For one, I will try to remember to wear weather-appropriate shoes, and also a coat, and maybe a change of clothes that doesn't make me look like a homeless version of the stereotypical Fat American Tourist.

On the tail-end of a whirlwind tour of the western half of the United States, I had what turned out to be a longer-than-expected layover in Tokyo.

I sort of suspected the layover would be longer than usual, as my flight time from Los Angeles to Guam was 30 hours. Perhaps that should have tipped me off.

But you never know, perhaps they're taking into account stops in 7 different states not listed on the itinerary -- or like, tail winds or something. These are the kinds of things I have a difficult time planning ahead for.

At any rate, I had the brilliant idea traveling back to only bring the bare essentials in my carry on, and to wear comfortable clothing for the long flight. Thus, I wore a couple of ratty t-shirts layered on top of a pair of stretchy, comfortable pants more appropriately worn during a session of yoga, or like, dog walking. I did, luckily, bring outer wear -- two jackets I usually sling over my knees at work to help with the climate of an over-air-conditioned office.

And that was it.

When the attendant informed me in LA that I wouldn't be able to get a boarding pass until I arrived in Japan due to an overnight stay in Tokyo, it did occur to me that I should prepare by buying a Japan travel book.

That was a good idea.

So, at least when I arrived after an 8 hour flight, I had a good idea of the benefits of visiting rustic Japanese baths in the northern provinces of the country. Or like, how awesome a Japanese tea ceremony is.

What I didn't have was a basic working understanding of Japanese, and/or a detailed map of Tokyo.

Given that I lived in New York for 6 years with only a slightly better ability to communicate and no real understanding of maps, I figured what the hell? Why not spend the night in Tokyo?

Plus, also, the airport wouldn't let me spend the night in the boarding area because my flight was too many hours away.

Tokyo being the Japanese version of New York, with better public transport, it wasn't that difficult getting into the city. I just asked a polite train attendant how to get into Tokyo -- who responded in better English than half the subway attendants in New York.

Since it was cold and a Sunday night, the train ride into the city probably accounted for about half of my sightseeing.

Having spent the last year and a half on a tropical island, however, it wasn't bad.

I looked at curious posters hanging from the ceiling -- and finally realized the magical reason why you see Japanese people wearing those ridiculous surgical masks everywhere: advertising.

I watched people fall asleep cell phones in hand -- as if they could not even gather the strength necessary to distract themselves during their mind-numbingly boring commute home. I marked the increasingly dense Japanese suburbs turn into urban sprawl by the clusters of lights out the window.

I felt hopelessly inadequate in my own near-pajama wear next to the laced-up boots, fitted jackets and layers of stylish, or at least weather-appropriate, outfits around me.

But, other than the fact that I was a head taller than everyone around me, I felt strangely at home. I missed my boots and jackets and riding the train around New York City. I even missed the cold.

When I got to the city, it was already around 8 p.m. I was faced with what seemed like a bustling heart of the city -- there were large departments stores (where I bought a hat and a scarf), tall buildings, and small winding streets with suspiciously accessible restaurants advertising all their food in English. There was even a park, supposedly one of the city's nicest. It was too dark (and cold) to stroll in it, but I felt like I must have discovered a reasonably happening part of the city.

It was only until I made my way back to the main square that something clicked -- holy shit, I was in the Times Square of Tokyo. I flashed back to all those days I spent rolling my eyes as I walked (hurriedly) past meandering groups of tourists in Times Square, and felt a little guilty.

And then I was like, whatever, I'm hungry.

After at least an hour of cold indecision, I found a sushi place (where they had to dig in a drawer and dust off the English menu). I ate passable sushi very slowly, trying to figure out what I would do with the next 10 hours or so.

When I went back out into the cold, however, I realized it would be impossible to try and do much sightseeing. I figured I could take the last train back to the airport, where I hoped they would let me sleep.

My timing not being great, however, I missed the last train by minutes. And, it turns out, the train station was one of those outdoor ones that is actually very cold, and not at all meant for sleeping.

Dejected, I left the train station and saw a lit-up sign that said "Hotel." At that point I was cold, and tired, and desperately in need of a bath. So I wandered in, found out that the place was only reasonably expensive, and got a room.

Given the fact that the hotel's entire clientele must be lost tourists who have missed trains, the place was pretty nice. The room wasn't much bigger than the bed, but it had a TV, a bathroom, and even offered slippers and one of those Japanese robe things, which I skipped.

Although it wasn't as exciting as bar-hopping all night and watching the sunrise with my heretofore undiscovered Japanese soulmate, I got to bathe, and sleep, and watch just enough Japanese anime to feel like I was hanging out in my parents' basement in college.

And then I got up and took a 5:45 a.m. train back to the airport -- and got to watch the sun slowly rise over Japanese suburbs while commuters begrudgingly made their daily slog to work.

All in all, not bad.