January 28th, 1991
Flight from NRT – OSA
The Plaza Hotel, Osaka, Japan
Harold, our purser, is a vile little man and we do not like him! He complains about everything and whenever Emilio or I crack a smile or attempt to enjoy any semblance of fun onboard, Harold hurls insults then refuses to communicate with us for the remainder of the flight (which, considering he’s our boss is not very helpful.)
The streets of Osaka are mobbed and everywhere you look are huge flashing, neon lights, all in total contrast to the sleepy village atmosphere of Narita we just left.
Having no desire to spend our first night with our drab crew, Emilio and I ventured out and got asked by at least a dozen people if they could have their picture taken with us. One not so small group (all young and female) were so convinced Emilio is Michael J. Fox that they chased us down the street, almost causing a mob scene!
We ducked into a dimly lit restaurant and Emilio joked that if we want to go sightseeing, we’ll have to don hats and sunglasses.
“You don’t even look like him,” I commented, after we watched the girls run past the restaurant.
“And you’re not a natural blonde,” he retorted. “But it didn’t stop them asking if they could touch your hair!”
“It’s all very strange, isn’t it?”
“We’re not in Glasgow anymore,” he chuckled.
On one side of the restaurant was a counter, laden with plastic models of the food they offer, which made it easy to order and the only reason we stayed. Well that, plus the fact the whole attention thing was getting a bit much (not necessarily for Emilio who has a love affair with his hair. Having said that, I will admit, he has great hair!)
When Emilio’s plate arrived, the food looked nothing like the model and whatever it was tasted absolutely disgusting so we ended up sharing my bowl of noodles and stringy meat that we tried guessing the origin of!
I think it’s time to learn some basic Japanese.