At Narita Airport (that’s in Japan), I asked Nona if I could please get out of her bag so that I could see Tokyo. She had kept me in that bag for the entire flight across the Pacific, all the way from LAX (that’s short for Los Angeles Airport) to Narita. I’m not complaining. It’s not like I needed to breathe or anything, right? So, here I am riding on the shoulder bag as Nona and Papa walk through the airport. I’m about as excited as a Plastic Jurassic could be to go into Tokyo with them. I think we’re going to have fun, although I hear them talking a lot about how expensive the food will be. No problem for me; I don’t eat.