Then there'd been the morning rush because her father had overslept, and the hour and a half drive to San Jose that had somehow turned into two hours because they'd make a quick stop for coffee (and Satsuki would never understand how a quick gas station stop could add thirty full minutes to travel time), but somehow — somehow! — she'd made it safely onto her plane with enough time to give her father a strong hug, a reminder to feed her cat three times a day, and to even put her driver's license back into her wallet instead of shoving it into her pocket after showing it at security.
Even then, despite how her entire morning had seemed to go wrong, Satsuki had been happy. Hell, she'd been ecstatic. Who wouldn't be? While she was younger, Satsuki had virtually no interest in her culture and heritage, but all that had changed years ago. She was struggling to learn more than the basic Japanese she used with her father (which, even then, was quite limited — for they were a fully Americanized household) and had even developed a taste for sushi, which was a rare treat. And now she was going back to Japan, to be a tourist, to get in touch with her roots, and to see family she hadn't seen since childhood, back when her mother was still alive. Oh yes, Satsuki had been excited and practically wiggling with delight as she got ready to buckle herself into seat 14B.
Then she'd realized that she was sitting next to that woman.
Now, to be fair, Satsuki was normally very friendly to strangers. In fact, she liked to think of herself as a very nice person. But today she had learned of her limits.
It wasn't really the fact that that woman chattered incessantly. Some people, after all, liked to talk. Satsuki liked to talk. Talking was not the issue. Or at least, it hadn't been the issue — but that woman hadn't stopped. Ever. Even during the small safety brief, where the friendly stewardess taught people how to use a seatbelt and that in the case of emergency there were oxygen masks above their seat so they could do their best to feed themselves air (though everyone was fully aware that since they were in a big, flying hunk of metal, they'd probably die regardless of their success in using those masks).
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Even then, despite how her entire morning had seemed to go wrong, Satsuki had been happy. Hell, she'd been ecstatic. Who wouldn't be? While she was younger, Satsuki had virtually no interest in her culture and heritage, but all that had changed years ago. She was struggling to learn more than the basic Japanese she used with her father (which, even then, was quite limited — for they were a fully Americanized household) and had even developed a taste for sushi, which was a rare treat. And now she was going back to Japan, to be a tourist, to get in touch with her roots, and to see family she hadn't seen since childhood, back when her mother was still alive. Oh yes, Satsuki had been excited and practically wiggling with delight as she got ready to buckle herself into seat 14B.
Then she'd realized that she was sitting next to that woman.
Now, to be fair, Satsuki was normally very friendly to strangers. In fact, she liked to think of herself as a very nice person. But today she had learned of her limits.
It wasn't really the fact that that woman chattered incessantly. Some people, after all, liked to talk. Satsuki liked to talk. Talking was not the issue. Or at least, it hadn't been the issue — but that woman hadn't stopped. Ever. Even during the small safety brief, where the friendly stewardess taught people how to use a seatbelt and that in the case of emergency there were oxygen masks above their seat so they could do their best to feed themselves air (though everyone was fully aware that since they were in a big, flying hunk of metal, they'd probably die regardless of their success in using those masks).