PCS’ing with the Millers: Traveling to Japan
It was a two-day…adventure
This story is one in a series that follows the progression of my latest PCS. In an effort to show the complexity, frustrations and joys of PCS’ing, I’m baring all in this series to help other military spouses (even if it’s just one!) take on their next PCS with confidence. This is the thirty-seventh installment of an ongoing saga — to get caught up, click here.
The day finally arrived when it was my turn to move to Japan. And by “day” I actually mean “two days.” The first travel day took Josie and I into Seattle, where we spent the night and then flew to Japan the following day.
I flew out of Denver on a Monday and the morning couldn’t have gone more smoothly. My mom and I were in the car, headed to the airport by 7 a.m. We hit almost no traffic and when we arrived at United Air Cargo, we were the only ones there checking in a pet.
By far, this was one of my best experiences shipping a pet with United. The agent at Air Cargo was not only friendly, but helpful. I was caught off-guard when he asked, “Would you like me to put ice in her dishes?” (This was a drastic departure from the staff at Raleigh-Durham International Airport, who told me they would put ice in Josie’s dish “if they have time.”) There were no issues with her paperwork and before I knew it, I was leaning over the crate, tears in my eyes, saying goodbye. My mom, meanwhile, hovered in the background, taking a billion photos (I’m sending you these photos so you have proof that she was alive when you dropped her off!)
There were no issues with checking in (both of my bags weighed around 65 pounds, but since I had those magical military orders, this was not a problem). Security, for a Monday morning at one of the busier airports in the world, was a breeze. No need to take off shoes or remove electronics!
My mom (who was flying to New York City on business) and I made our way to the terminal and even enjoyed breakfast together, our final one for a while, at the French cafe near my gate. After eating our asparagus quiches, we made our way to my gate and waited for boarding to begin. It was only as I stood in line waiting for my flight that the impact of the next chapter of my life hit me:
I’m moving to Japan for three years.
Despite being excited, waves of apprehension, fear, overwhelm and sadness washed over me. My stay at home for the past three weeks was comfortable; I thoroughly enjoyed being back in Colorado Springs and spending so much time with my family. Suddenly, as I waited for my boarding group to be called, I had no desire to turn around and say goodbye to my mom. I knew when I did, it would be with tears in my eyes and a quiver in my lip.
But, there was no denying the inevitable.
Before my group was called, I turned around and told my mom it was time to say goodbye. Standing in the middle of a crowded boarding area, my mom and I shared a silent embrace and buried our tears in one another’s shoulders. Our inaudible sobs and bobbing heads were the only evidence that these two worldly, travel-savvy women were having a tough time with accepting the next part of their lives.
My mom was the first to get a word in, telling me she was so proud of me and that this next chapter of my life was going to be incredible; the only thing I could do was nod my head in acknowledgement.
When we finally broke apart, I was openly crying, tears running down my face like Niagara Falls, eyes cast downward. My mom kept uttering reassurances and then, after wiping my snot on my jacket sleeve, the words came, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very excited to move to Japan. But I’m really going to miss you. I’ve enjoyed being able to spend so much time with you over the last three weeks.” The tears didn’t stop, my mom handed me a tissue and we embraced three more times before I turned and snaked through the crowd to the jetbridge.
After scanning my ticket, I turned back to see my mom, a smile on her face and a few tears in her eyes, standing where I left her, giving me her signature mom-wave. It’s a wave that’s not only embarrassing, but signifies her unwavering presence and an understanding that she’s watching, ready to pounce like a tiger should anything go wrong. It was more than I could handle. I waved goodbye and started crying all over again as I made my way on to the airplane.
As one of the first ones to board, I had the advantage of being able to pull myself together before the rest of the passengers joined me on the flight. My mom, in an effort to assuage my fears about Josie, stood at the window and gave me by-the-minute updates on Josie. I received video and photo evidence of her status (because my mom is a straight up psycho).
But what really helped me relax was the Ramp Manager, who boarded our flight. came to my seat section and handed me a ticket that confirmed Josie was in the belly of the plane. “Hi ma’am,” he said to me, “I just wanted to let you know that your dog was loaded on the plane and she is doing great.”
The flight to Seattle was uneventful. I rented a cart for my four bags and retrieved them from baggage claim. After calling the La Quinta to let them know I arrived, a short while later their airport shuttle picked me up. To my immense relief, when I asked the driver if he could take me to United Cargo to pick up Josie, he said, “Yes.”
Josie was already at Air Cargo by the time I arrived, and it only took about 15 minutes to process her paperwork. When she was returned to my custody she was fine. A little hyper, but fine. The bus driver was a total saint and helped me load her crate on to the bus and even waited for me to walk her in the small grass patch next to where he parked.
Pro Tip: The La Quinta at SeaTac was a fantastic choice for an overnight layover. The room was clean, the shuttle was free, the staff was helpful and it’s literally two minutes from the airport. Plus the cost of the rooms typically fall within the cost of travel allotted. They provided me great customer service throughout my stay and I highly recommend them to other military families traveling to Asia.
We then went to the hotel, I checked in and stayed put for the rest of the evening. I ate a footlong Subway sandwich in bed while I watched The Notebook with Josie sitting next to me (because PCS season). By 7:30 p.m. I was showered and Josie and I were tucked into bed.
Three a.m. always comes way too early. But in this case, it came later than I expected, as I slept through my 2:50 a.m. alarm. Luckily my 3 a.m. alarm woke me from my fitful sleep. After taking Josie outside, I hauled my luggage and her crate to the lobby and caught the 3:30 a.m. bus to the airport.
The bus driver (a different one from the evening before) kindly waited with my belongings next to the bus as I dashed across the street to grab a cart for all of my bags. Looking like Harry Potter making his way on to Platform 9 ¾, I wheeled my unruly cart full of stuff into the terminal and proceeded to check in.
Pro Tip: Those SmartCarts you see at the airport are a must for when you’re PCSing with more bags than you have hands. Swallow the cost and pay the $5 for the cart you’ll use for 10 minutes. It really is worth it.
The downside of flying with a pet with the military is they make it hard to get a flight to where you’re going. The bonus of flying with a pet with the military is you get to go in a special short line…which is particularly great for those of us who hate waiting in lines. Checking in Josie was no problem. Annoyingly, however, all of the airline staff tried to pressure me into checking my red roller carry-on bag. I went back and forth with one woman who tried to make me shove it in the measuring tool near the check-in desk (which is purposefully teeny tiny) and who forced me to take some items out of the bag for show.
She continued to insist I needed to take items out and put them into my other bags (where there was literally no room; the zippers were screaming). I told her there was no room in my other bags. She insisted I needed to check my carry-on instead. I told her I had valuables in that bag (fact) and that I couldn’t check it because I had no doubt those items would get stolen. She had no response to that.
In the end, our plane was a 767 and my bag had no problem fitting in the overhead compartment. There are moments during this PCS when I’ve been a wimp about standing up for myself, but this was not one of those moments.
Pro Tip: If you have a carry on bag that you’ve traveled with extensively and you KNOW it will fit in the typical overhead compartments, DO NOT let the airline staff pressure you into checking at check-in. Take it to the gate, give it your best shot getting it in the overhead and if it doesn’t fit, they’ll gate check it (often for free) to your destination.
After check in, I found a quiet place outside of security and cuddled Josie. I checked in with my family and friends and quietly stroked Josie on the back, who fell right asleep in my arms. The pets made her and me feel a little better about the day ahead. But 6 a.m. eventually rolled around and I had to return Josie to her crate at check-in. Tears came without notice as I loaded Josie into her crate and she suddenly became agitated, sensing what was coming next. I reassured her, through the door of her crate, that I would see her soon and everything would be okay. I walked away, crying my eyes out like a nut job, as she barked and whined for me to come back.
I thought the worst part of the day was behind me. Getting myself, Josie and all of our stuff to the airport on my own was a big hurdle. But I was wrong.
Our plane waited nearly 30 minutes in line for take-off. Once that half-hour mark came and went, the pilot came on the overhead speaker saying, “Well, folks, because we’ve waited so long we’ve missed our window of opportunity to take off. There are these regulations in Japan called “quiet hours” where they restrict aircraft coming in and out of the country. So we’re grounded for the next two hours until the next window of time opens up.”
What. The. F**k.
At this point, I’m not ticked that I’m trapped on this plane for 13 hours. I’m panicked about Josie, who is one of eight pets in the belly of the plane. She’s never been in her crate for that long and I didn’t want her to overheat or have an accident and have to sit in her feces for hours on end.
Alas, there was nothing I could do about it but fume. Gratefully our plane had in-seat entertainment, so I passed the time watching movies. Right at the two-hour mark we were told to put butts in seats and suddenly we were in the air. I didn’t even have time to turn off my phone, that’s how fast it happened.
The flight was uneventful. Hopped up on dog-mom nerves, I barely slept. The food was terrible and when I requested a vegetarian meal, I was told I needed to order it ahead of time (how, exactly?). The entire flight confirmed my suspicions about military air travel — uncomfortable — and reinforced my desire to fly commercially in the future.
Pro Tip: Bring your own snacks and or a meal for international flights. This prevents you from going hungry in case you don’t like the food being served.
We landed, made our way to the terminal and watched the customs video. I was the first through customs because 1) I like to be first in line and 2) I could hear Josie barking her head off on the other side of the wall.
But as I handed over my passport and documents, the sight of the veterinary staff performing CPR on the floor stopped me dead in my tracks. All of my attention turned to my dog as I snatched my passport back and sprinted with my carry-on luggage to the pet pick up area.
There, on the floor, in front of Josie and the other animals, was the Veterinarian performing CPR on the cute English Bulldog I saw earlier that morning. Panic set in and I looked at Josie who, with her big blue eyes, was begging me to let her out of her crate. I called over to her and reassured her I would let her out soon. When my eyes made my way back to the scene with the bulldog, all movement had stopped. The dog was back in his crate and covered with white sheets.
I was stunned.
English Bulldogs are on the high-risk risk for flying, as their short snouts restrict their breathing and can cause them to suffocate during the flight. But seeing this reality play out in front of me was traumatizing. I saw that dog at Seattle; he was a fat boy who had no interest in going in his crate and waddled around in that adorable way English Bulldogs do. Aside from being a bit overweight, he was definitely healthy. The owner knelt next to the Veterinarian the entire time, and when they finally called it, the only emotion that registered on his face was shock.
By that point I was on the verge of losing my mind and wanted only one thing: my dog. It took forever to process the paperwork and even then, the vet tech kept talking to me, giving me instructions about the coming days. It took what strength I had left to not yell at him, “Give me my f**king dog. I won’t let her out in the terminal, I won’t take her off base, I’ll be at the damn vet’s office on Friday! GIVE ME MY DOG!” But I kept my cool, kept nodding my head in agreement and finally, I was awarded my puppy.
My bags were already circling the baggage carousel, lazily waiting for me to claim them. I hauled them on to the cart the vet tech gave me, and pushed it out into the waiting area. And there was my husband, patiently waiting for me.
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