Oh What Fun It Is To Fly

. . . into a typhoon.

Yes, my faithful flock, it's Japan time again. Montreal > Chicago > Tokyo > Osaka, with Tai-chan, my 8-year-old son.

Except the travel agent neglected to warn me that I a) can't have a beer in Illinois before 10 a.m. on Sunday b) Chicago is a lousy airport and c) that a typhoon would be making my landing in Tokyo EXTRA-exciting. I'll have to get back to him about that.

My spirits were raised when, in Chicago, I glanced at my boarding cards for Tokyo and discovered that we were going to be sitting on the top deck! First Class on Japan Airlines!

But that was regrettably not to be. They reconfigured salmon-class for sardines and furthermore, made sure that Tai-chan and I were almost the only ones sitting with a seat companion -- almost all the other rows had at least one seat free. That's called karma, for all those times I went First Class.

The food was execrable, really not what I'd expect from such a prestigious airline. Tired pasta in a bland sauce. Pouch of Italian dressing for an iceberg salad.

Other than that, the 13-hour flight from ORD seemed to be going okay. Until the pilot came over the intercom and said (in the Japanese equivalent) "Folks, there's a typhoon lashing Tokyo with extremely high winds and heavy rain. At this point, I'm considering diverting to Haneda (the other airport in Tokyo besides Narita) and I'll let you know when I decide."

Oh, yay, folks, yay yay yay. Then the stewardess comes on and explains that we really, really have to have our seatbelts tight, and check 'em again, please, as we will be encountering "strong turbulence."

Being a veteran flyer, possibly with more than 5,000 flights under my belt, those words only spelled one thing: "deep shit."

My two blood pressure pills couldn't counter my white-knuckled fear. Tokyo is not a very nice airport to land in. It's prone to all kinds of nasty conditions.

So as soon as we began to make our descent, and the captain had said nothing further, I was a squirming mass of nerves. Everything was grey outside -- a grey sheet of nothingness. Rain streamed across the windows.

Then the shaking began. I was terrified, but Tai-chan was laughing. It got really, really bad. No way he's going to try to land in this, thought I.

Yes Way. The plane lurched sideways, then up and down like a rag doll. Everything was eerily quiet except for the intermittent screaming of the engines.

We couldn't see the ground until about a minute before touchdown and we came in sideways to compensate for a powerful crosswind, just as I feared we would, and hit the ground like an anvil.

By this time beads of sweat were forming and I swear, if I'd had to stand up, my knees would have given out.

But you, my dear readers, made me keep the faith. I said the Lord's Prayer and ten Hail Marys, plus quotes from Allah, Buddha and Zoroaster and they seem to have worked. But it was the thought of posting this that kept me going.

I now sit on the 40th floor of the ANA Gate Tower Hotel sipping a lemon chuu-hai while Tai-chan takes a bath and I'm contemplating a BLT from room service.

But I'm gonna get that travel agent when I get back on Thursday. And he's gonna wish he never had knees.