Passport, Clothes and Texas

Note: This post is actually being uploaded a few days after being written. Ironically, in the technological capital of the world of Japan, I've had trouble getting my computer connected to the internet. So, here's the post in all it's antiquated glory:

Man, it feels like a lot has happened since the last post. When was that again? It's 5:30 am now and I've been up and about for a couple hours now on three hours of sleep in a Comfort Suites king sized bed. The bed was nice, but the three hours seems to leave a feeling of something missing. I just can't pinpoint what it is.

So, as fingers skate across keyboard, I'm listening to all-too-familiar buzz of aiportdom—CNN and elevator music lightly in the background, refueling airplanes whirring, people cozily reading and staring about aimlessly at the gate, and all that excitement. It's a party here, indeed. Next stop: Japan!

Actually, to be more precise, my next stop is San Francisco, continuing to Narita (basically, Tokyo) and then to the final destination of Ōsaka in a brief total flight time of 22 hours (19 of those actually in the air). Anyway, the implication here is that the whole family-hugs-family-more-hugs-food-family-hugs thing in Good ol' Texas is a memory to be treasured, no longer a thing to be lived.

I love visiting (or "coming home to" as my loving mom likes to say) Texas. The wide open space, the complete lack of vegetarianism as even a concept, armadillos, and of course familiar hugs, hand shakes and chit chat. A big part of this visit has been continuing to take care of Japan preparations. That has been going on for the Flying Spaghetti Monster knows how long. But a giant upturn in logistic preparations seems to be post-sesshin, putting it about a week before leaving for Texas.

Juan Cruz, my new big brother from the Palolo Zen Center (we all love him), and I were all ready and about to go to the Consulate-General of Japan in Honolulu. It was time to get a shiny, new and very first visa. So, making sure everything was in order: Certificate of Eligibility, check; 2 passport photos, check; passport... shit. Yeah, that's right, after five years of traveling from the easternmost to the westernmost extremes of the U.S. (well, not quite. the real extreme points) and all through dear-to-my-heart México, the passport goes MIA when it's about to be used for more than just photocopies for the first time. Shit, indeed.

However, in case you're curious or have the need (hope you don't), passports can be issued within 24 hours. You pay a pretty penny, but it's actually not that exorbitant and is a life saver (or at least a trip-to-Japan saver). So, I have a new, less crumpled, full-of-mysterious-electronics passport and also that aforementioned visa. The visa, though, came via the Houston Consulate-General of Japan.

Of course, going through all the bureaucratic circus of our lovely recondite US government to obtain a new passport in about 24 hours ensures without a doubt that the missing one will show up approximately the instant when the new one touches your hands. And this is precisely what happened. The culprit, pants pocket. Though that pocket was hidden in a pair of pants. That's my excuse for the moment. Hehehe. 

Anyway, Mom (who deserves a hearty thanks! yet again) shuttled me to and fro, mainly between Huntsville and Houston, many times. A couple of those trips were successful is procuring an almost completely new wardrobe. Check it:

This shirt is awesome.

The challenging part was finding pants that didn't turn into shorts when I sat down. I mean, why is 30x34 such a hard size to find?!

Anyway, that was good. Also exciting was visiting with old friends again. James, Roshni, Eric, Jared... A veritable TAMS fest! We didn’t all meet at once together; however, it’s such a pleasure to just chill together, even if we’re being lame and just watching TV or something.

Yup, we're in an elevator.

Well, that’s about it for the Nonsense (the capital apparently makes it more emphatic) this time. Thanks for tuning in, buckling up and surviving the bumpy ride. It’s time for me do to a more aviatic version of the same.