The Tortures of JETlag

knock

knock

BAMM!

Mark is sitting bolt upright on his bed in his suit. The scene behind him is an office-light-pixelated canvas of Tokyo night. My brain, still coming out of its REM fugue, thinks it strange that when I layed down (which feels like not five minutes ago) the sun was getting prettily low behind the buildings out our hotel window, but now it’s full on night. As Mark, who seems to be a little more with it than I, goes to the door, my foggy mind comes around enough to realize what I meant to be a short nap turned into a longer sleep, and I’m grasping frantically for anything with the time on it so I can run down my mental schedule of just how much I’ve missed.

Damn you, JET lag. I guess you do exist after all.

Fortunately it’s only 7:30 pm, and that’s not so bad. Fortunately Lindsay noticed the conspicuous absence of her co-ice-cold-north-JETs and saw fit to come check how deep a coma we’d lapsed into. Fortunately 7:30 is still early for the H-K JET do later this evening.

So, long story short, I made it to Japan…more or less in one piece.

But my usual resilience when it comes to vanquishing jet lag seems to have met its match with the whole thirteen-hour-flight thing. Or maybe the problem was the four hours before the flight when we had to sit, inactive on the tarmac as oxygen systems were rebooted, electrical systems were cycled, and pilots were switched. Or maybe I was overstimulated from having Japanese immigration screw up and grant me a three month visa instead of the intended three year visa.

Regardless of the explanation, I got painfully little sleep after arriving in Tokyo last night at about 10 pm local time, and that lack of sleep repeatedly bit me in the ass today as I tried to keep my eyes open through all of the very important JET orientation sessions.

However, I’ve now got some unintended sleep, so I figure I’ll head out with the other Hokkaido JETs and attempt to booze myself into a comfortable slumber tonight.

Wish me luck.