The flight was boring. Uncomfortable seats, annoying programs and practically non-existent entertainment (At least for me anyway), I thought it would get better when I got down the flight. At least I would be able to purchase some local cigarettes and get a decent kick. I had sighted a smoking corner in the airport. But I didn't get a chance to. I had to rush to take the next Narita Express down to Shinagawa, a 70 minute ride down. I had to stone for the next 70 minutes, and maybe I can get a stick.
No. The next train to my aunt's house in whatever place (I'll go find out tomorrow) was due to arrive in 3 minutes. I thought she wouldn't be diligent enough to camp at the entrance. I heard a sound snap in my head when I saw her.
Then, it was dinner afterward. I had to watch them smoke in my face in all the places you couldn't in Singapore. What's more, they seemed to only take two puffs and extinguish the rest of it. You never see anyone in Singapore doing that. Because the shit there is way to expensive to waste.
So Smart Boon thinks he can outwit them by buying a pack of his own and smoking it later. But no, Japan had to implement some tobacco card system, where only people of legal age (20) can apply and use the card to buy them from vending machines. It's just a chain of jokes God played on me. I have the money and the life to smoke, but I just have to watch it get waved in my face. I'll remember this prank you pulled on me forever.
I'm getting prissy over this. I sure hope they don't try and stop me tomorrow from the Japanese version of 7-11, otherwise I'm going to threaten some poor Japanese dude to lend me his card.
P.S. The air in Japan is delicious. It's like natural air-con everywhere, with the slight taste of something sweet.
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