Sweat

Two weeks in the humid Japan summer and I became very familiar with sweat. Other than the days I was soaked in rain I spent the remaining days soaking my own shirt. One day in particular stands out from the others though. My final day in Tokyo, I woke up with a headache; a result of the previous night. All you can drink, and all you can eat Korean pork belly, for a couple hours and anybody would be staggering as they walked out. The next morning however, I had a mission to take Chloe to Yokohama to visit my family and witness the monstrous size of their cat. 

From the moment I headed out for Yokohama, I began a sequence of events that would lead to the worst sweat of my trip. A hurried lunch at the family home, pictures with the cat, and off to the train station. At this moment I was calm as can be, hopping from train to train all the way to Akihabara. I’d left my big bags in a locker there, but had to go out to Chris’s to pick up my computer and skateboard. At Chris’s I jumped in the shower so I wouldn’t spend the next many hours feeling disgusting. After a quicker than I would I would have liked goodbye with Chloe, I ran for the train station, a panic slowly setting in. I took the train to another stop, where I had to wait for the fast train to Narita Airport. The Skyliner Express didn’t reach the airport until 5:25. My flight began boarding at 5:45, and of course, I got off at the wrong terminal. By the time I made it to the proper terminal it was 5:48. This was when the sweat really set it. A 44 liter pack on my back, a 22 on my front and a computer bag in hand, I checked the screen for which check in counter to go to. Counter B. I dreadfully looked up at Counter L. Nearly bowling down fellow travelers while sprinting to the proper gate I had only one repeating thought, “I WILL get on that plane. I WILL get on that plane.” Counter B was deserted. No Air New Zealand signs, and only a single person behind a computer. Wide eyed she looks at me and timidly asks, “Auckland?”

Pouring sweat, I paced while she called up baggage control and frantically checked me in. They took my luggage and I sprinted for security.

No more than 15 minutes from when I stepped off the bus between terminals, I sank into aisle seat 24J.

Half an hour after takeoff, we hit violent turbulence. The kind of turbulence where I could only envy the sleeping people. The kind of turbulence where I could only wonder about the irony of sprinting to this plane.

Sweat from panic, sweat from fear, sweat from physical exhaustion. 

I’d experienced them all in a matter of an hour. 

Needless to say, I needed another shower. 

Naptime