We wandered through the airport, weary, disgruntled, and in search of sustenance. Everyone was fat, white, and loud.
We reached our connecting terminal, and were ushered without explanations into a series of confusing lines. However, as I surmised from the unwelcoming red letters, domestic connections involving luggage needed to be made 45 minutes in advance.
Stepping off the plane, we were ushered to the gates of Fortress America. Amazingly, as we gathered into two immense, concentration-camp-esque ques down a seemingly endless airport hallway, an airport staff woman with a Chinese accent so thick you could fry dumplings in it, continuously shouted into the crowd, “Don’t worry! Be happy! You’re in America now!”
Exiting the train, we stepped out into the airport where Koji-san and I loaded our luggage onto a handcart. He had come specifically so he and Naoko-san together could watch our departure until the very plane itself vanished into the skies.
It was the day after Hisachan’s birthday, and we had just emerged from our hilarious little episode in the local shrine. Hisachan and I decided to spend the rest of the day more or less just trucking around and enjoying Hiroshima.