Exhumed in Japan

We headed out early the morning of July 5 to make it to Los Angeles Airport, shit hole of the West. We had to get their very early to take care of three things: checking in, visa forms for Japan, and having our last decent Mexican food for awhile. We made it into Japan without incident, besides maybe some leftover bean farts. 

Our first stop was Tokyo. We met with two members of what was to become our amazing fucking crew, Bastian and Benoit. In a weird twist, our hosts in Japan were French expats. Incroyable! We packed into the very, very tiny van, my sciatica flaring in full force after the long flight, and made our way to the Shinjuku region of Tokyo. 

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Japan: September 21

You say it’s your birthday? Dun nuh nuh nuh nuh… It’s my birthday, too! Dun nuh nuh nuh nuh… Are you on an airplane? Dun nuh nuh nuh nuh… Well then, fuck you! Yup, today is my birthday and I’m spending it right now on a plane bound for California. With the time difference and crossing the International Date Line, I’ll have managed to stretch the celebration of my birth out for forty hours, if my math is correct. That’s a long time to spend turning thirty-one.

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It’s time to go home. Always bittersweet, especially given that I have to head straight back into work. The very clean streets of Japan will be sorely missed when I begin again my daily ritual of counting the human waste deposits in the alley towards my place of employ.

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