Lost in Space (and Time and Vegas). Travel Log, Day 1

We had been looking forward to our overnight layover in Vegas.

I am not a gambler -- at least not in the casino, cards, and chips sense -- but I love the sights and sounds of the Strip, and could not wait to give my daughter her first glimpse of life`s glitzy underbelly. Ladies still clad in cocktail dresses at five in the morning, stacks of emptied glasses nearby as they use every ounce of energy they have left to tug on the one armed bandits. Folks sitting at the smooth felt tables, desperately trying to avoid losing their shirts. A parade of disheveled bride stumbling by, their veils cocked oddly on their heads, the looks of wonder on their young grooms` faces having nothing to do with newfound wedded bliss. An occasional health nut in running shorts emerging from an ornate hotel into the dawn light, an anomalous figure in Sin City where, inside the vast windowless lobbies, it is always nighttime.

Things did not go quite as we had planned, and instead of boldly wandering through the hotels on Las Vegas Boulevard, we spent the night sleeping off my daughter:s puking episode from flight number one of our journey to Japan. Over the years, all three of my kids have puked on airplanes -- usually on me -- so the fact that everything ended up hermetically sealed in barf bags this time around warmed my heart. And, in hindsight, a little sleep and a good shower were, for us, like hitting the jackpot.

The flight to Las Vegas was short compared to the taxi ride from the airport to the airport hotel, and probably a lot cheaper. The driver had pretended not to know the hotel was practically sitting on a runway, but when I later noticed the hotel and the airport shared a name, I became a bit skeptical about his intentions. Note to self: pay attention idiot. Anyway, I had forgotten that Las Vegas is somehow exempt from regulatory agencies and other typically American overseers who prevent that kind of thing from happening to visitors who either don`t speak the language or are just plain stupid.

At any rate, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas -- the cheerful TSA agent pretending to check our tickets against our passports reminded us of that -- so forget I said anything about the taxi. And while I`m not telling, I won`t bore you with memories of the Elvis wedding my husband surprised me with for our seventeenth anniversary. It`s all a bit foggy, actually, but I remember he had taken the liberty of writing vows for both of us to read, which we did. Not Elvis, my husband. Apparently, we both must have had our fingers crossed. I often wonder if we would still be together if he had just gotten me jewelry.

Vegas seems like a distant memory for me now -- not just the long ago wedding but also the taxi ride -- as we approach our descent into the airport at Osaka. The journey through the twilight zone continues. At the beginning of the flight, I watched in awe as the young Japanese boy across the aisle from me bowed his head in silent gratitude when the flight attendant handed him a wrapped blanket and a package stuffed with headphones and an eye mask. Desperately seeking a dose of reality, I glanced over at my daughter in the seat next to me. She had already ripped the cellophane off her blanket and the little package with headphones and an eye mask and tossed the wrapping on the floor in front of her. For a moment I thought she was going to bow in gratitude (on the `when in Rome` theory, since we appeared to be the only folks on the plane who needed a non-resident customs form), but she was just looking for the pillow she had dropped.

As we continue to soar through unfamiliar galaxies, I expect we will experience more than a few culture shocks, stark contrasts to our own brand of civilization (or lack thereof) from the other side of the planet. Oddly, we didn:t need to bring an adaptor for our various electrical appliances. For our habits, well let`s just say we`re wired differently, and though our cellphones will be properly charged, it may just take us a few extra days to plug in.