Hello folks! For those of you unaware, today I undertook a three week, three country trip. I'm currently (Sunday morning) on the plane from Seattle en route to Narita airport in Tokyo. If this is your first missive from me, rest assured, it won't be your last. If you've been with me to Taipei, London, or my last trip to Tokyo, welcome back. I'll try not to disappoint.

The trip got underway without incident. I remembered my passport (for those of you who did not follow my Taipei experience, this was not a foregone conclusion) and got myself seated properly. Henry Gabryjelski, a developer on my team, was already on the plane and seated. Actually, Henry was pretty much the reason for my going on this trip. He regularly attends the Mt Fuji DVD Command Set meetings--enthralling discussions where the participants argue for hours about which bit on a DVD should be set to what--and prefers to have "adult supervision". So he asked for a PM to ride shotgun & kick him under the table when he says something that's not copacetic. Hence my attendance.

Anyway, as is usually the case for flights I take, I requested a kosher meal. Now had I thought about it I wouldn't have bothered--they always have a few choices of entree on overwater flights, so I never have to worry about being stuck with a porkful repast. But the deed was done. So they start bringing out the meals. Filet mignon, chicken, or a bento box with fresh sushi. Unfortunately, the kosher option was not so appealing. You see, for a hardcore, seriously kosher meal, it can't be sitting around out in the open where some malicious pervert might smear lard all over it. So they take the whole meal, freeze the sucker, and serve it to you thawed (mostly), still in the plastic overwrap.

Most of the meal survived this abuse. The crackers were a little soggy, but canned fruit and stale brownies are pretty much impervious to ice abuse. But there, sitting in the middle of the tray, was the most incredible abomination before culinary science that I have ever laid eyes upon. Evidently it was supposed to be smoked fish. If it was, I have no doubt that the fish in question lived a short and brutal life near the effluent spout at a nuclear reactor. However, always being game to try anything, I took a bite. Not only was it completely inedible, my hands were instantly contaminated with rancid fish oil, which is somewhere below toejam and above poison ivy as something you want smeared all over your hands. Zeynep, it was the stuff we had at the wierd russian mob restaurant, except stringy and mushy. Anyway, this was just the appetizer. The main course was a hunk of what used to be salmon, but now was something that tasted like licking the underside of a barnacle. It was served up with some nasty veggies & spaghetti stuff, covered in oil. Ulch.

In defense of my heritage, I have to point out that the fault was not with the fact that the food was kosher, but rather with the fact that the food was prepared by what I can only believe are lobster-men, who consider decayed fish to be a delicacy. You see, I have a theory. I think the airlines are run by competing christian televangelists. Each one has their own approach as to how best to convert you. Alaska serves ham sandwiches with a psalm tucked in the corner. Southwest has the choose-your-own-adventure seating (no assigned seats), and I suspect them of hiring roaming proselytizers who look for the people picking the bacon out of their breakfasts and grab a seat next to them (I've had two attempted conversions by seatmates on Southwest already). United, though, is the most devious. "Oh, here's your completely inedible kosher meal derived from post-nuclear byproducts, sir." and can you guess what happens next? I bet you can... "well sir, if that isn't to your liking, I have an extra STUFFED PORK CHOP!!!" Sinister.

Anyway, dessert was perfectly normal cheese, fresh fruit, & Sandeman's port. The first movie was "The Out of Towners", an eminently missable Goldie Hawn/Steve Martin flick. Next up is Close Encounters of the Third Kind, actually filmed in Craigville USA (aka Muncie Indiana, scientifically proven to be the american town most likely to cause you to get drunk and shoot your ankle off with a twelve gauge--I am not making this up). The rest of the flight was uneventful, and two aborted train rides and a suicidal taxi driver later we were safe in our rooms. Stay tuned; future mails will include the enthralling goings on of the Mt Fuji meetings and, if all goes well, a very elaborate attempt to poison myself.

Yours,

--dan