Air Canada

As things shook out, after returning from Okinawa, I would only be home less than two weeks before I would be setting out on another trip. This time, rather than somewhere new, I would be heading somewhere intimately familiar, I would be heading home. 

Two of my very good friends were getting married, and I was in the wedding party. I’d known about this long before I had left for Japan, and so I always looked at this as an excuse to visit home. So, after being away from home for 9 months, it was time to fly back to Vancouver, Canada. 

Unlike my usual pre-trip anxieties, I was surprisingly neutral about heading home. I was looking forward to seeing everyone of course, but I wasn’t quite excited. It was a bit of an odd feeling, one that I was honestly having trouble parsing. Going home just felt an obligation, and I left packing until the night before, as if I had been putting the whole thing off. 

After my initial homesickness when I first came to Japan, I’ve largely tried to avoid thinking about home too much. I’ve already made my commitment to staying, and I want to make the most of my experiences here in Japan, rather than spend my time missing home. Outside of my family and a few people, I largely haven’t had much contact with my friends back home. 

It’s not like I wasn’t missing home, or the people there, but more that I avoid dwelling on it. So when I tried to imagine how I would feel being home, I was mostly coming up empty. I would go home, see everyone, and then come back, no biggie, right? My unsure feelings aside, it was time to set out, ready or not. 

My flight was in the late afternoon, departing from Narita airport, but getting to the airport became a lot more of an endeavor than I expected. There had been reports of a typhoon hitting southern Japan, and some of my co-workers had expressed concern about my flight getting canceled. So with that in mind, I wanted to get to the airport nice and early if possible. 

So I grabbed an umbrella, grabbed my carry-on suitcase, and braved the rain. I walked to the bus stop, confident in my decision to go to the airport early. As the rain poured down I saw the bus come by, and hastened my step to reach the bus stop. Only, the bus didn’t stop. I was left in the rain, waving my umbrella as the bus continued on, paying me no mind.

The bus was exactly on time, so I couldn’t even say it was early. My only take away was that rather than cross the street after the bus, I should run out in front of it to make sure I catch its attention. A more dangerous option sure, but getting left behind by your bus is a terrible feeling. 

In most cities, I would simply wait at the bus stop for the next bus. Well, in my rural town, this bus wouldn’t be back for another 3 hours. As I walked back home my mind ran through all the possible options. I could try and catch an uber, or a taxi. I could still get to the airport before my flight if I waited for the next bus, but I would be cutting it close. 

Turns out, uber doesn’t work in my area, and I could never secure a ride. As a side note, uber here in Japan just sends you a taxi, since only licensed taxi drivers can transport passengers for money. Probably not much business for taxis in my tiny town. So, I resigned myself to my fate, and tried to settle in for the next few hours without letting my anxiety spiral. 

Finally, I left my house almost 30 minutes early, determined not to miss the bus again. The weather had begun to clear up, but my mood was pretty foul, angry at both transit and myself. The bus came, and I got on, and while it was much later than planned, my journey to the airport began. 

Once I finally got on the bus, it was fairly straightforward. I got off at the train station, then transferred 2 more times before finally drawing close to the airport. Narita airport has 3 terminals, and from what I could tell, I was flying out of terminal 2. I got off the train, headed towards security, and got an error as I tried to pass through the gates. When I showed my boarding pass to an employee, they informed me that Air Canada flew out of terminal 3. 

I don’t even know where I got it in my head that terminal 2 was the correct terminal, or why I hadn’t seen that information on my flight status, which I had been checking constantly due to the weather. By now, there was only about an hour and a half before my flight. I was moving into full blown panic mode. 

I went back down the escalator, tried to get back to the train I had taken here, assuming it would take me to terminal 3. Once again, as I asked a staff member, I found out my assumption was wrong. I had to take a bus to terminal 3. So I retraced my steps, went to the information desk in a huff, and asked how to get to terminal 3. 

The staff member calmly gave me extremely clear instructions on how to get to terminal 3. Go up the escalator, and look for bus terminal 18. Something about having someone so calm when you’re in a panic can really do a lot to calm you down. My anxiety was still spiraling of course, but I can only imagine how much worse it might have been without this interaction. 

Thanks to their instructions, I found the right place, hopped on the express bus, and got to terminal 3. I had about 1 hour left before my flight. I rushed through the airport, and did my best to get through security as efficiently as I could. I got through without a sweat, and almost thought I was in the clear, before I realized I still had to go through immigration. 

I had some trouble scanning my passport, and tried about 3 times with the help of a staff member, before they finally asked if I had a residence card. I said yes, and then they directed me to a separate section just. If there were signs directing me there I either hadn’t seen them, or they were in Japanese. 

Once I got there, I got through without any trouble, and finally, I was in the clear. As I started walking to my gate, I stopped in at a smoking room to try and decompress. I heard the announcement that my flight was just beginning to board. I always hated that my family got to the airport way before our flight, but now that I’ve cut it this close, I think I’ll reconsider that stance. 

As I was finishing up a cigarette, they made an announcement of passengers that needed to speak to the staff for my flight. To my surprise, they called out my name. I tossed my cigarette, and power walked over to my gate, worried there was some unforeseen issue. When I got there, it turned out they just needed to scan my passport? For what reason I didn’t know, but as long as there weren’t any issues I was happy. 

We started boarding fairly soon after, but I still had to wait a while for my turn. I got a window seat, which is always nice, and settled in for the flight. I watched a few movies, struggled to sleep, played my switch, and soon enough we were descending into Vancouver. As I got ready to deplane, the excitement really started to hit. I was really back. 

As soon as I got off the plane everything was familiar. I haven’t been through YVR all that often, but the design language of the airport, the carpeting, the layout, it’s so different from Japan, and so familiar. I was home, and I missed it in ways I wasn’t even aware of. 

I got through customs, and started coordinating pickup with my parents. I had a bit of time, so I grabbed an Ice Capp, which like everything, has only gotten more expensive in my absence. Inflation aside, it tasted like home. 

I headed to the curbside, found my parents, and gave them a big hug. It had only been a few months since they visited me in Japan, but hugging at home just felt different. 

While flying home certainly had proved more troublesome than expected, my apathy about my trip melted away the moment I got off the plane. I love Canada. I was so excited to be home. I knew these 10 days back home would go by all too fast, but I was ready to take in every single moment.