I flew Northwest airlines for the first time today. Their hub is in Detroit, so I flew there first before heading to Osaka. Most airports have a central area with a few terminals branching off and possibly different ranges of gates branching off from the terminals. Detroit Metro was one huge long linear corridor with gates A1 through A-seventy-something all lined up one after the other.

I started to walk along the "moving carpet" in the direction of my gate when I noticed overhead a bright red bullet shaped monorail shuttle scarcely making a sound as it rushed passed overhead. Keen to investigate, I took the walking carpet back to the escalator in hopes of getting a closer look. There I discovered it would take me to my gate!

A sign written in English and Japanese with Japanese being, strangely enough, the dominant type indicated how long the wait would be. The red led clock embedded in the sign counted down in minutes and seconds subtley adjusting the time as some hidden computer controller estimated the progress of the train. It reminded me of taking the realtime course at Waterloo.

Northwest is OK. I found the service to be reasonable; not rude, but not very friendly either. I was on a 6300 series 747-400 if that means anything to you. The interior seemed a little aged. The food was not great and the stale bun came with some "Real Buttery Flavor (TM) Cream" which tasted salty and awful instead of real butter, though I was probably one of the few to notice. On an equally trivial, but positive note, the armrest sported a mini-stereo jack compatible with those used on most headphones as opposed to the dual mini-phono jack that I assumed was an airline industry standard.

I wonder why airlines use those funny dual pronged headphone jacks. Maybe it gives the airline the option of selling headphones. I remember when they used to use those long plastic flexible wind tube style headphones with the foam earplugs on the end. It resembled a stethescope and I guess there were little speakers in the armrest creating the sound which was carried by the hollow tupes to your ears. Those had a dual prong plug with one tube eventually leading to each ear. Maybe the contemporary dual mini-phono jack is just a stylistic anachronism.

The flight was uneventful and I slept for most of it. Things only became interesting again upon my arrival at Kansai International. The line at customs was short and I filled out the disembarkation card while shuffling along. You need to indicate name, age, passport number, home address, address in Japan, flight name and number, and purpose and lenght of stay. I turned over my passport and the card. The girl at customs did not ask a single question, put a sticker in my passport and waived me through.

The next area is the baggage search and declarations area. They have men in cute uniforms with white gloves behind low stainless steel counters each with an X-Ray machine to the side. Scrolling text in red LEDs indicates that no drugs, obscene material, illegally copied items or contraband is allowed. Good thing I left my counterfeit pornography wrapped joints at home.

I walked up to the man and we stared at each other. Him expecting me to know what to do, and me expecting him to tell me. I said I have some alcohol. He mumbled something about opening my bags and asking if I have anything illegal. I opened one of my bags and showed him the bottle of wine. He said "Ok, ok, no drugs or anything illegal?" I said, obviously, "No". And then he said something that, regardless of situation, context, or language was very clear to understand: "Body search"

I have read some scary things about Japanese customs. It seems that foreigners do not have much "rights" when entering the country.

He waved another man over and indicated I was to proceed with him. The new man said "Nihongo wakarimasu ka?" which means "Do you understand Japanese?" I said, in Japanese, "A little" which he took to mean "Yes" and we proceeded to talk in Japanese from then.

We started walking towards the near wall. There was the sliding glass door entrance to freedom. Beside that, there was a glass window to a currency exchange booth. Then a door that looked like it might be to an office and beside that there was a partition made with high office cubicle style walls against the main wall. We headed for the partition.

Upon entering the partition you could see that it was divided in two. Presumably if you entered from the other side you were presented with a similar room. The room was pretty spartan. From right to left there was a chair and, in front of the chair, a little square of carpet on the floor with a pair brown leather japanese slippers neatly aligned. Continuing on, a square white melamine table. The only item on the table was a clear plastic medical pump bottle with red Japanese writing on the outside. The bottle was filled with a clear fluid and I can only guess it was either antisceptic or lubricant. Gulp.

He asked me to empty my pockets and we continued talking in Japanese with him asking what I was doing, where I was staying, where I was coming from, and then, as I continued to respond, how I knew Japanese. He had me take off my shoes and briefly inspected them. And then he said "Marijuana's popular in Canada isn't it." I smiled and said "Yes". He asked if I brought any which I declined. Then I volunteered that my Japanese friends smoke up when they go to Canada. He asked if I smoke marijuana and I said no. He smiled and said "Ima daijoubu?" indicating my baggage and clothes which means basically "you're not bringing any trouble now are you?" and I said "diajoubu" "I'm clean".

He thanked me, wished me well, and sent me on my way. The whole exchange was rather pleasant and I think he assessed pretty quickly that I was OK and maybe his collegue was being unecessarily suspicious. Still, in retrospect, talking about drugs with a customs officer in a language where you would describe your skill level as "conversational" is not without an element of risk.

All in all, my first "body search" went quite well.

I am at an Internet cafe now. A little tired and weary I may forgo the customary Friday night partying and find somewhere to sleep with a hot Japanese ... bath.

Tomorrow a few of my friends are in town and I will try to connect with them. Stay tuned for more.