I somehow managed to feel confident and terrified at the same time. On one hand, I’ve done this several times before. The frustrations, mistakes, and issues would be nothing new. On the other, the flight was starting to take a toll on the body, and I wanted to get some sleep.
We fumbled our way through customs and headed to the train station. This is where my brain stalled. Of all things, I couldn’t figure out which train to board for my ticket. I missed all context cues, and we jumped into car 10; the red one going to Tokyo.
Leading up to the trip, my algorithm was to head to Tokyo via Narita Express and take the Keikyu Line south. My sister suggested we take the JR line to Shinagawa and transfer. Narita Express also goes to Shinagawa, what’s the difference?
Non-reserved seat passengers have to yield their seats to reserved seat passengers. Everywhere we sat, we were in the wrong seat. Later, a gentleman from California pointed out we were in the wrong train, car, and seats (again!). The inner Chilean kicked in. I figured i’d stay on this train, get off at the next stop (Tokyo), and nobody would know. That’s when ticket police showed up. After fumbling some words, we paid the difference to stay on this train to Shinagawa. We had to move to the poor people section up front, however.
The KeiKyu Line is very much like any other train or metro in the world. Simple map with left to right directions and highlighted stations to transfer to other lines. We got off at Maborikaigan and walked. The natural instinct is to start crossing when the cross-traffic light is red. Since they drive on the left, you’re going to get hit. I need to stop that habit….
By the time we got home, the phone was under 10% battery. We found my sister’s hidden floor spaghetti closet and drank some terrible tasting tea from a vending machine.