Alternate Title: The Day of So Much Sadness
On the last day of our trip, December 1st, we did not have to leave for the airport until the afternoon, so Dad wanted to get in a little more sightseeing before it was time for him to go home. Worn out by my dislike of Tokyo and the previous 9 days, I was not as good of a tour guide as I should have been by that point, but I still wanted to make sure Dad felt like he had gotten the most out of his trip. So we set off to the National Garden. Along the way, we headed to Denny’s for breakfast. Here was where Dad first encountered Japan’s excuse for bacon. He ordered bacon on the side and was presented with a single piece. After breakfast, we headed back out.
It was a longish walk in grossish weather, but we finally reached the end of the journey. And the garden was closed. Apparently it only closes on Mondays. Fun fact that we probably should have looked up beforehand.
I felt bad, but honestly, I could have cared less what we got to see while in Tokyo. I was just enjoying hanging out with my dad. So we headed back to the hotel and chilled in the lobby for a while until it was time for Dad to get on his bus to the airport.
I haven’t cried that hard in a long time. In fact, I’m tearing up writing this. I sent him guilt-inducing texts to him to make myself feel better, featuring such gems as:
“Get off the bus and let’s go back to Hyuga. It’s a much better plan.”
“Even the sky is not happy that you’re leaving. See what you did? You upset at least one of the billions of Shinto gods.” (sent with a picture of the rain)
After Dad left I had to head back into the hotel and take a few moments in the bathroom to get myself under control, but I was pretty much ok after that. (Until people later asked if it was hard to say goodbye to my dad.) My bus was about 40 minutes later, so I did not have to kill too much time by myself.
Dad and I then texted each other bragging about who got to their airport first. We even ate curry “together.” (It was a coincidence that we both choose to grab curry at the airport.)
I flew home, exhausted and ready to sleep in my own bed. But fate doesn’t seem to appreciate when I travel outside of the approved travel times. What was supposed to be an express hour long train ride back to my city ended up taking almost three hours due to wind delays. I even texted my supervisor saying that I thought I might have to take more vacation time the next day.
I finally got home (I ended up with a chatty taxi driver on the way home and I’m too nice to just not reply when they try to make small talk), unpacked a bit, called my mom, and crashed hardcore. By the time I woke up, Dad had just landed safely in the US.