Our JAL (Japan Airlines) Experience (All Good – sorry Delta: you suck!)
From Alim's view:
Fortunately, we had the forethought to tell JAL of Miriam’s low vision, and from the instant we showed up at the JAL gate in Honolulu, they could not do enough for us. First, they were extremely concerned to be sure that our bags made it from Hawaii Airlines into their meticulous care. Starting with Alim having misplaced our baggage claim tickets; no worries! They asked us for descriptions of our bags, and a little later came with pictures to ensure that the ones they had were indeed ours. Just before pre-boarding, our escorts appeared and guided us until they could pass our care to the flight attendants who were no less attentive. Truly we received 1st class service at the rock-bottom ticket price. Never would we say it pays to be blind, but sometimes there are perks!
The only negative was no Wi-Fi. However, the eight-hour flight was very comfortable between a vast selection of movies and comfortable seats. It was only made longer by our intense anticipation. Once we arrived in Tokyo before emplaning for our final destination of Osaka, we were cared for by a brigade of high-spirited female JAL attendants. It’s quite a story:
First, we had to go to “Quarantine” which was very concerning because we had heard horror stories about 10-day isolations in Japanese hotels. Having experienced a Japanese hotel on our previous trip with the bed that had to be collapsed to get into the bathroom, we knew that before 10 days, Miriam would become known as the “Crazed Honeymoon Killer.” Getting to Quarantine was only the first leg of what became a hike of many kilometers through Tokyo Haneda airport. (We are now on metric.) We went down a long passageway to a man at the end signaling where to go next. Onto another long passageway with another signalman at the end. By now, all our fellow passengers, mostly Japanese, were long gone, and all was deserted except for the old American stragglers, and the signalmen perking up as we approached. On we go down yet another long corridor. It should be said, they seemed long, but we had not seen long yet! There are at least three such corridors – maybe four or five. By now we are becoming concerned about making our next flight!
Happily, it turned out we are not heading into quarantine, but they are just checking our COVID papers with test results obtained within the last 72 hours. After a couple of passport and papers checkpoints, we arrive at a computer station with a woman who spoke English, and we fill out yet more COVID papers. The Japanese are nothing if not thorough with their paperwork - numerous forms in infiniplicate! Again, the woman is infinitely patient with the stupid old westerners, but it takes another 20 minutes. Panic is setting in!
Exiting “Quarantine,” we are directed to baggage claim to get our bags for customs. Of course, we are up for stretching our legs after sitting for so long, but we have not bargained for a hike across Tokyo! Seriously, we came to a passage with no end in sight! Moving sidewalk after moving sidewalk - each of about 20 meters, and the slowest moving we have ever experienced. Now we’re in full-scale panic! Yet we persevere.
Never-ending Corridor!
After about five sections, at last the end is in sight! Maybe we can still make it?! But it turns out to still be illusively far. We lost count at 10 sections of sidewalks, yet we eventually reach the end. Greatly relieved, we follow the baggage claim pictures, turn a corner, and behold to our total dismay yet another endless corridor!😭
Resisting the compulsion for a complete meltdown, hearing granddaughter Aza’s call, we summon reserves and onward we go. And on. And on. All journeys eventually end, and so it was with this one. Finally arriving at baggage claim, we are met by several frantic female attendants standing with our bags relieved to see us. By then, we had lost hope, and are buoyed that they still seem to believe we have a chance to make it. Although smaller than us, they insist on hoisting our bags onto luggage carts, handling them without strain, and off we charge to customs – old farts puffing to keep up!
Heroines!
Now we encounter the Gargoyle. He is a tall (for Japanese), rail-thin older man with uniform several sizes too big and a face that forgot how to smile decades ago. First sweetly, then fiercely, our brigade that has now expanded to five, pleads our case. Back and forth, an apparent softening by the Gargoyle and then a hardening with precious minutes ticking by. Same as in the US: macho male over-empowered by badge and unreasonably asserting his position only because he can. Finally, after several more priceless minutes, he relents, and we are marching through the turnstiles and onto an elevator. Miriam and Alim, four too-large carry-ons, two over-laden luggage carts, and five precious, lovely escorts crammed into a postage stamp elevator.
Postage Stamp Elevator
But only to have Gargoyle return and hold the elevator! More appeals from the brigade, priceless minutes going by, he finally steps back, and up we go. Next, we are on the platform, several of the brigade bid us warm, polite adieus, and several more join apparently having been waiting for our arrival. Off we go racing down the platform with old fart tongues dragging and … the minutes tick by!
About 30 meters on, we arrive at the designated place on the platform for our destination. The attendant who has been with us all the way since baggage claim explains in halting English that she goes no further with us and that we are in good hands with the current brigade. She bows several times and lets us know how much she has enjoyed helping us and wishing us a wonderful visit to Japan. She is absolutely precious, and we want to adopt her! The train arrives, and we enter with all our luggage and brigade – now 6! – only to turn around to see the engaging smile of that same lovely lady! Japanese don’t hug much so lots of bows suffice. More minutes go by as we are told that we get off at the second stop. What would we have done without this service? Having been awake twenty hours by this time, we would still be trying to figure out getting through customs and to our gate!
Finally, we arrive at our station, exit the train, and we, our brigade and luggage cram onto yet another elevator. The expressions on the faces of the brigade have become pretty glum, and they are much quieter. We’re fighting tears. All this way only to miss our final leg, and the kids have already left for Osaka, so would need to return home and then turn around and come back in the morning. Thinking of another many hours before our reunion, no idea where we would spend the night – the airport or a postage stamp hotel room is almost paralyzing.
But the elevator opens to more smiling ladies, and the baggage carousel is just a few meters ahead! More ladies grab our nearly 50 lb. bags like they are weightless, and the brigade escorts us to the gate which is through a door right there – just a few meters. Hasty goodbyes many bows, and we are on the boarding ramp. The doors close behind us and we are on our way!!! Teary with relief, we text Micah that we are leaving Tokyo.
Of note about all this attentive care was their sensitivity. They were never overbearing as we often experience with well-meaning people wanting to help us.
Next Post: Reunion!!
