Training

Training - that is what we apparently received during those two jet-lagged and hungover days in Tokyo but I'm afraid bad 90's home videos on a day in the life of a Jet do not make for much enlightenment. I was good and went to almost all the required stuff until the second day when my hangover required that I go for a swim.

The hotel pool was on the 7th floor roof so I floated about on my back looking up at the skyscrapers around me and enjoyed the cool water of the pool. My enjoyment was cut short however when the nice pool attendent who had been running around tying everything down told me they were closing the pool because of the approaching typhoon. Fair enough, I had noticed that it was a bit windy, you don't usually get waves like that in a swimming pool.

But I've skipped a bit, the night before a gang of us Irish jets went out on the tear. The Irish group had been split up into two flights and I am now very glad that I was in the first group cause the others got delayed in Dublin, missed their flight to Tokyo and arrived on Monday evening instead of Sunday evening.

But anyway they did eventually arrive and those of us whose prefectures (Japanese counties) were too lazy to organise a night out headed out ourselves. Some random Jet met us on the street and led us to the nearest Irish pub, not what we wanted so some more wandering ensued til we bumped into some Japanese kids clearly going clubbing. I say kids cause I will never be able to tell what age anybody here is they all look really young, even the really old people. They led us to a club but we weren't allowed in not sure if it was cause we were gaijin or all straight but we left anyway.

We then found a very tiny club with cheap (in Dublin terms) drink and nobody but ourselves and some American and a South African jet. Darts were thrown and laughs were had and we were just getting stuck into dancing when two Japanese guys appeared. I am now convinced that they were there to practice their dancing (they were good and concentrating on the mirrors). I thought I'd try my hand at some conversation with the locals which consisted of me being told in very good English that they didn't speak English.

We all continued to get a bit pissed and enjoy ourselves until two of the Irish lads decided that dancing wasn't activity enough, wrestling was required. A few broken glasses later myself, Mairead and one of the wrestlers decided to head home. There are some universal truths connected with going out drinking and the need for food on the way home is one of them. We found ourselves in a little noodle shop and I had one of the best post-pub feeds ever. Ahh... happiness is a good night out and a pool to soothe your head the next day.