It was more luck than judgement that I steered myself out of Tokyo subway station to the exit in my direction. I had booked a hotel at the airport, and at least had an address in a totally alien city where not all roads are sign-posted, and even taxi-drivers have to go on a paper chase; often navigating by subway stations. The first night in my single-video/TV-slippered-toothbrush-and-toweled-business-hotel room was a soothful stay; a jet-lag convalescence. The second was also very nice, but the third seemed a blatant misuse of funds. How could I justify a week's food-bill on eight hours between clean sheets?
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