The trip that nearly didn't happen. Twice.

So I was proud of myself-- I had my suitcase packed by two o'clock on the day before departure, which is an almost unheard of feat for me since I am usually cramming things into a duffel bag while I'm running to the car.

Well, we had everything planned so well-- I would stay up and burn DVDs and transfer files onto my computer while Dagmar would sleep. He would wake up at 3 and we'd be out the door by 3:30 so I could be at the airport by 4 (since I have been told time and time again that this is mandatory for international flights). That would give me plenty of time to organize my carryon stuff around my laptop, as the space it takes up dictates what I can fit around it and in what arrangement. All of my things were right next to my bag; they just weren't in it.

Well, I laid down around 2:15 to get a little rest before setting out since my laptop was gleaning information from my desktop. I woke up a little puzzled that I felt somewhat refreshed, as if I had napped longer than 45 minutes. Dagmar was still fast asleep.

I grabbed my phone, and it was 4. AWESOME. I had everything planned so well up to this point, and panic set in pretty hardcore. Stuff went flying into my backpack and purse, crammed in every which way, the laptop got shoved into its little caddy and somehow I managed to fit in 2 minutes to wash my face and hair before running out the door in an exhausted, frazzled mess.

I hoped to God that I would be able to check my luggage. I hoped to God I'd be allowed to check in at all. After all, this was an international flight and I'd have to go through all sorts of lines and metal detectors and pat-downs and produce declarations.

Well, as it turns out if you're from the US and leaving the US, they don't seem to care what you're taking with you if your connecting flight will also be leaving from the US. So that was a relief.

Except that about halfway to the airport I realized that I had left my laptop AC adaptor plugged into the wall. I ran through all these scenarios in my head where I'd either have to pay buttloads of cash to get a new one or just forgo having the computer with me at all.

"I'll go get it. It'll take me half an hour," said the level-headed and not completely panicked and sleep-deprived boyfriend. He lives about 15 minutes away, and seeing as it was only 4:50 and my flight boarded at 5:30, it was the most rational thought produced all morning. So poor Dagmar, after dropping me off, dutifully drove back to his house, grabbed my charger, and returned to the airport to give it and a farewell kiss to me.

He is just the best. I will miss him so much.

So anyway, after going through the screening point, I had to sort of hustle to my gate, where only I and one other person had not boarded. I'm just glad I wasn't the only one they were waiting on. It was 5:45 by this point.

Okay, on the plane, finally! I got sat next to two chatty parents with iPhones talking about the middle schools their children attended. I shuffled through my stuff several times, trying to arrange it in an under-the-seat-friendly fashion. This was met with disputable success.

On final approach, I went to grab my boarding pass for the next flight, when I noticed that my passport was nowhere to be found. I had to use it to check in, and I had it in-hand when I went through screening. Had I dropped it when I boarded the plane? HAD IT DROPPED THROUGH THE GAP BETWEEN THE PLANE AND THE (GANGWAY)? I went through all of my bags numerous times, as well as the kangaroo pouch and my pockets. Nothing. Panic again set in. If I couldn't find that passport, I wouldn't be able to leave the US.

I searched my stuff once my neighbors disembarked, and found my passport flopped under my seat. Relief metaphorically washed over me.

So now I'm waiting in DFW for another hour and a half to board my long long long flight to Narita. I hope that we get fed and, more importantly, that I am not asleep when they serve it.

As a sidenote, DFW's terminal is kind of interesting. I offloaded on the exact opposite side of the airport from where I would be leaving, which does not bode well for my return trip since I have a very narrow window in which to get through customs and then on to my flight back to Austin. Anyhow, the radio station they have hooked into the PA must be reading my brain, since they have played at least two songs from Madonna's Confessions on a Dance Floor and Gwen Stefani's Love Angel Music Baby, as well as other annoying dancey pop music that I enjoy.

I'm not excited that once I get into Narita, it will be at least another 3 hours of traveling before we will be at Suzuko obachan's house. Trains are sort of fun, though. I'll just keeping telling myself that.

I will pretend to be productive and brush up on some Japanese while I have downtime, although what I would really love to do right now is to nap.