However, before setting off on my exciting journey, one of my bigger worries was what to actually do in an airport so that I get where I need to be on time, and without pissing off a security guard and getting myself arrested. Now, up to this point in my life, I've been on a plane exactly once. It was with a large school group, governed by many teachers and volunteers who made sure we all got where we needed to be. It was much like following a line of penguins.
Since I've grown up a little, and airport security has become much more intense due to bomb threats and terrorism and the like, my perception of airports has been molded by the horror stories I've heard. Between stories of tazeings (taserings?), irrational arresets, and guards who would sooner shoot you than look at you, I imagined airports to be full of scary men and scary machines ready to take you down if you sneezed.
Granted, I knew I was being irrational, and everyone's reassurance helped me believe that I was, in fact, being stupid. "It's eeeeasssy... you'll be fiiiine". What these well-meaning people didn't take into consideration is that I am a person who is easily flustered, and that all I've ever known of airports is St. John's International, a very, very small airport when compared to where I was going.
The first leg was easy enough. St. John's International, with its very few gates, is impossible to get lost in. Pair that with the fact that most of my family were there to see me off and helped to show me where to go and what to do, I was lulled into a false sense of confidence. The flight from St. John's to Toronto was easy and I thought that by now, I had mastered airports.
Pearson International was a much different story. I followed everyone off the plane, and I met confusion. Some people turned left, some right, some sat down at the Tim Hortons across from me. I had another flight to Narita, Japan in a couple of hours, and I had no idea if I was supposed to get my luggage before that flight or not, and I had no clue how to even get to the gate where I was supposed to be to meet Adam, so we could go off to Japan together. After a couple of minutes of deliberating, I decided to figure out what happened to my luggage, so I went to try to claim it. I followed the signs, and finally found the conveyor belt luggage thing that coincided with my flight. Since I saw other people from my flight from St. John's picking up their luggage, I assumed that mine would have to be there as well.
I watched that conveyor belt many minutes. I did not see my luggage. Not having dealt with this kind of thing before, I only now began to think that it may be going on to Japan without my receiving it in T.O. A brief discussion with a man behind the desk confirmed this suspicion of mine. He simply looked at the back of my plane ticket, and told me I'd see my luggage in Japan. I felt stupid. Was I supposed to have known this? Why didn't anyone tell me?
I then moved on to try to go back where I came, so I could figure out where I was going. Another brief discussion with a guard pointed me in the direction of an international flights section of the airport. Once I found my way there, I began to realize just how big Pearson is. There are a bajillion gates, and I didn't know where the hell I was supposed to be. The fact that the gate number wasn't printed on my ticket didn't help. I wandered around the section for a good while trying to see if Adam was around, and after a while I began to panic a little. The only place that seemed like it was the place I was supposed to be was beyond another security gate.
Now, somewhere within my discussions of what to do at airports with people at home, I had heard that you're only supposed to go through security once, at one airport, and you won't have to do it again once you've done it the one time. I assumed that since I went through security at St. John's, I wouldn't go through security at Pearson. However, through the security gate was the only place I hadn't looked.
I finally plucked up the courage to ask one of the scary security guards what was going on, and he was severely unhelpful. This was the gist of the conversation:
Me: "I'mreallylostIdon'tknowwhattodo,I'msupposedtomeetsomeone... Help?" (Like I said, I get flustered easily. My obvious panicked state did not help me, I'm sure.)
Guard: "OOkay, let me see your ticket there... whelp, you're at gate (whatever) but your plane doesn't leave, for, like, a long time, so you should come back."
Me: "Um, well, if the gate is past there, I should really go, I'm supposed to meet someone..."
Guard: "Yeah, well the flight doesn't leave, for, like, an hour, so you can meet them later..."
Me: "I'm supposed to meet him soon, and I haven't seen him yet..."
Guard: "Ohhh, you haven't seen him eh? Tell me what he looks like, maybe I know him!!"
I was not impressed. To give the guard a sliver of credit, if I had been working his shift and a flustered girl came up to me who didn't "get" the easiness of airports, I'd want to make fun of her too. But that doesn't take away the fact that he was being a massive douchebag.
He eventually let me through, and I walked until I thought I was lost again, but I finally found Adam. Now that I'd found company who has done the airport thing a few times, I figured I was safe. Another false sense of confidence.
The trip to Japan was incredibly long. I knew going into this that a thirteen hour flight would probably feel like a million years, so I came prepared with a DS and books. However, by the end of the flight -- no, who am I kidding, by about 6 hours into the flight, that plane was the only life I had ever known.
Once we landed, I realized that Narita is another massive airport, and I worried that I wouldn't know where to go again. Thankfully, this airport was much more streamlined. I got off the plane, followed a flow of people, then signs showed me where to go next. Unfortunately, because our visas are different, Adam and I had to split up briefly. I went to one line-up, and he went to a different line-up, decently far away.
I made my way to the front of my line, and eventually found myself in front of a young-looking Japanese man who looked as if working this job made him want to kick puppies and/or stab out his eyes. The conversation that ensued was just as frustrating as the conversation I had with the guard at Pearson.
Japanese Dude: " (japanesejapanesejapanese) "
Me: ? " Wa-kar-i-"
Dude: "Do you speak Japanese?!"
Me: "Uh, no, not really."
Dude: (eye roll) " Heh heh, oookay..."
This reaction was not comforting. Yes, I came to a country where I do not speak the native language. Believe it or not, this happens quite frequently, and does not mean I'll end up dying alone in a Japanese ditch somewhere because of it... I hope.
The rest of the conversation just went downhill from there. I was flustered now, and the dude asked me the address of where I was going to be staying because I didn't have it written on the little card I was supposed to hand him. I, of course, did not know the address offhand, but Adam did, and he was in a different lineup. The dude rolled his eyes again, and kept muttering in Japanese while he did something on his computer, then he finally let me go through.
Now, I understand that to one who's traveled frequently, or who works at an airport, the whole process is stupid-proof, and a hamster could figure it out. And, granted, my problems were very minimal and things worked out pretty quickly. However, I stand by my statement that airports and I do not get along, whether it's because of my flustered stupidity or because I'm pro at picking out people who are having bad days. All I can say is that I did not like the experience, airports are dumb, and the people who work there are asses. Maybe next time will be better? We'll see.
