Lost in Translation

By Mark W. Danielson

(To the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies . . .)

Come and listen to a story ‘bout a man named Jed. A tired airline pilot who had nothing in his head. Then one day he went looking for some food, ended up with a bus driver who was in a foul mood.

Well out came a bus, so he climbed right on. But the five o’clock bus, had yet to come along. Ended up with a tour, of the Narita airport. Thankfully he remembered, to bring his passport.

The guard waves them on, and they pull in Terminal One. Once a few get off, then the bus is on the run. Terminal Two is next, so we stop, the rest get out. All I can do is wait, would do no good to pout.

The driver checks his mirror, and sees I’m still riding his bus. He casts an angry look, and he makes a little fuss. I say “No Get Off”, so he’s leaving me alone. He’s probably thinking, that this Yankee Dog is stoned.

After fifteen minutes, we’re finally under way. My co-pilot probably figures, that I just don’t want to play. We were supposed to meet at five, to ride the Downtown bus. Who knew I’d get on, the 4:50 Airport bus?

Not me. That’s for sure . . . Next time I’ll know the airport bus leaves late.

So, the bus swings by, Terminal One once more. No one to pick up, so my driver pedals the floor. Terminal Two produces, the very same result. I can hardly wait, to hear my co-pilot’s insult.

We arrive at the hotel, just in time to wave good bye. To the 5:40 Narita bus, that is now passing us by. The next downtown bus isn’t until 6:10, damn! I’m really hungry now, better take off like a ram.

So I head into town, on the route I’ve done before. Trekking through rice fields on roads, before it starts to pour. The sun has now set, it gets dark before too long. But my pace is fast, so I’m nearly into town.

I arrive in Narita minutes, before the next hotel bus leaves. Too much time to kill, after the McDonalds I have to eat. So I wait for the bus, and who should come along? Thankfully not my co-pilot, but someone I’d like to gong.

We get on the bus, and finally make it back. Only wasted four hours for my simple Big Mac. So the next time I’m there, I’ll check the time for sure. Buses may leave late, so confusion can be near.

Never trust a driver who will not give you a clue, but the bottom line is, it’s always up to you. Just so you know, this isn’t really about Jed. Just a tired airline pilot who had nothing in his head.

Fun times, international travel. Jet lag. Language problems. Y’all fly safe now, ya here?

(If you'd like to read more about some of my international travels, check out the travel section on my web page @ markwdanielson.com)