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Norway Trip

January 31, 2009

Michael was flying to Norway from Japan. There was a problem with his flight, so he had to leave the next day, but his bag NEEDED to go ahead of him. Mum asked me (on the phone) to deliver it for him. I had to take his original flight using his passport, and then come back again. His luggage included a bomb, but nobody seemed too surprised/uneasy about that (including me).
Customs was a big, dying forest that you had to find your way through. There was nobody else around, but I managed to find my flight.
The flight itself was nice, but the people around me got pissed off. for I was playing Kashmir at an incredible volume and couldn’t turn it down.
When I got to Norway I had to put ‘my’ (Michael’s) passport through the machine at the gate; it wasn’t customs yet, it was just a check as you come out. There was a blonde Norwegian at the desk, and I tried to explain, with my broken Japanese, that I didn’t want to go any further, and that it wasn’t me in that passport, it was Michael. “I’m just delivering a bag!” The lady said that she wasn’t in charge of bags, so didn’t know, but would ask some of her airport mates. She only asked Bill, a lowly bag boy, and he didn’t know either.
I then realised that I didn’t have a return ticket, and, even though I wasn’t through customs yet, I couldn’t just hop on a plane and go back to Japan like I planned. I had to make a decision; go through customs and live in Norway, or not?

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