I love visiting Japan. This is unlikely to be a surprise to anyone who’s read any previous posts on this blog, or really to anyone who even glances at the header image. I acknowledge that I am very weeb-coded.
I don’t, however, love airports. I’m not quite as nihilistic as the Douglas Adams bit on airports from his Dirk Gently novels, but they’re not really places I want to spend a lot of time, especially when dealing with security lines or the ruinous prices American airports ask you to pay for food. I’m also not fond of the constant squeeze in economy class.
So, in the last few years, I’ve put some effort into making the process less awful, starting with doing enough flying and spending enough on my preferred* airline’s mileage card that I’ve gotten a bit of a boost in status and can more easily get better seats. I also have lounge access which is a great perk and solves the food problem and we will not discuss the yearly fee associated with the credit card that gets me this access.
When I say preferred*, by the way, I recently looked at a statement and realized that the reason I have a flier account with them in the first place is that they’re the airline my company used when they would send me places back in the 90s. So I’ve been flying them for 30 years based on what some HR person decided back then.
So that’s great, but none of it addresses the security lines which are the first source of stress when embarking on travel.
Shout out to Minky Momo for teaching me the word “embarkation”, by the way, though until roughly 10 seconds ago I thought it was spelled with a C. Anime is educational, y’all.
To deal with those, there are a couple of “Trusted Traveler” programs, and since one of the benefits of my ruinously-expensive credit card is reimbursement for the application fee for Trusted Traveler programs I decided that it would be a good idea if my wife and I could both breeze through security using them.
So, we sent in our applications, got our “conditional approval” emails, and were suddenly faced with the problem of the final step, which is scheduling an appointment for an interview to finish the process. This isn’t easy to do, because there aren’t a ton of offices where we can get this done anywhere near us and the appointments are booked months in advance and difficult to get, especially if you want to schedule two interviews on the same day.
But, there’s a loophole. You can do what’s called “Enrollment on Arrival”, which is where you get an interview when you’re returning from parts foreign. No scheduling needed, just show up with your conditional approval and documentation and sit down and wait for a CBP agent to talk with. If you find yourself in our situation, I recommend this. If you live in a major city with an international airport and can schedule an interview locally… maybe do that instead.
Hence, our plan: We would fly up to Vancouver, which is technically international in that Canada appears to still be a sovereign nation and get our interviews done in the tiny piece of the Vancouver airport terminal that is officially US soil. All in one weekend, so I wouldn’t need to miss work. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, it started with damn near missing our flight thanks to a massive security line, which would have been a terrifically ironic turn of events, but somehow we made it on to the plane and landed in Canada and made it to our room at the airport hotel.
I mean, the AIRPORT HOTEL. Getting to watch planes from the hotel room was pretty neat and the soundproofing was impeccable.
My wife had stayed up all night out of an abundance of caution, so she immediately crashed – that’s probably not a good word to use in reference to anything near an airport, come to think of it – leaving me with nothing to do but explore a strange city’s train system.
Serious kudos to Vancouver for having pretty decent transit, at least from my limited experience. I had a little trouble getting from the Canada Line to the Expo Line, but that was entirely on me and my inability to notice signs. I went aboveground instead of realizing that I should be connecting underground, and spent a little time trying to find the next station from the wrong layer of the map, as it were.
I at least got a brief walk around Vancouver’s waterfront and some pictures of neat buildings.
No idea what these are. Would be hilarious if they were for some really utilitarian process and I’m just taking pictures of, like, a water treatment plant or something.
Why do some of the most evil corporations, ones I interact with on a daily-to-weekly-basis, get the coolest looking towers?
I eventually did figure out the Expo line and took it to a video game store that had shown up on the first page of Google results, which isn’t the best research method in the world but paid off on this occasion.
Just look at that window. This is a store that commissioned an artist back in like 2001, when someone might have thought that Ulala belonged on the same couch as Chun Li, and has just stuck with it through the years. It’s glorious, and the stock on hand was pretty impressive as well. I’m not sure anyone will pay Modern Retro Prices for a Vic-20 RAM expansion cartridge, just as one example, but if you’re the target customer for that they have a couple in a glass display case, with enough other rarities that I think everyone is guaranteed to see at least one Holy Grail for their own collection.
I was sorely tempted to drop like $120 USD on a collector’s edition of “Food Girls”, because it’s a quirky little management sim that I quite enjoyed, but common sense prevailed and I just bought a few very cheap Xbox 360 games.
I don’t know that I’ll ever be back to this little corner of Canada, but I’ll make it a stop if any future trips do bring me this way.
The next morning we packed up, headed down to security, got to US Customs and were directed to some modestly-comfortable chairs to wait our turn for an interview. The space isn’t terrifically private, though they do try to at least give the person being interviewed a little space, so I was hearing just enough of the interview of the person before us to make me worry because she was being absolutely grilled about every little thing on her application. The officer spent the best part of an hour on her before sending her on our way, and I braced for some serious bureaucracy…
…and then our interview was “give us your fingerprints. Do you still live on X street? Your cards will be in the mail in two or three weeks”
It was, well, rather anticlimactic. I AM NOT COMPLAINING.
In the end, it felt like a very good use of a weekend. I’m sure that the 20 or 30 minutes per trip it saves us on future air travel will eventually add up to more than the time we spent on the process.














































