Travel Memories: Flying to Japan and the LA Riots

To be 22 again! This story occurred in November 1979. My wife at the time and I, both recent college graduates, were heading to Japan to visit my parents (They'd moved there when I was in college). This was my second commercial airline trip, her first. It was also the first time I’d ever rented a car on my own. I was young, naive, excited and had a bit more hair and a little less weight. The photo is of me (at age 22) in Japan.

We got into LA about noon, rented a car and took off for Long Beach. We had a little over of 24 hours to spend in the city and I was dead set on touring the Queen Mary. We spent the afternoon on the ship, being in awe of its beauty and grace and astonished at its size. That night, we ate in Long Beach to avoid the traffic, and then after dark headed back to our hotel near LAX. Our bodies were still on Eastern Standard Time, so we went to bed early and it seemed, got up even earlier. We caught the early edition of the morning news. Everything was about the Iranian crisis. Hostages had just been taken in Tehran. The Shah was in America, being treated for a fatal disease. The world markets were in turmoil and oil supplies were being threatened. The local news told about a planned protest by Iranian students against the United States allowing the Shah into the country. As they already had their permit, the protest was going on even though other groups weren’t too happy with the Iranians protesting while hostages were being held in Tehran. We didn’t pay much attention; LA is a big place. It was November 1979. We showered, packed out bags, walked around the neighborhood and got some breakfast. We brought matching “Los Angeles” t-shirt in a local shop.

Our plan that morning was to head north, drive through Hollywood, then head to the airport and catch the daily JAL flight to Tokyo. We got out our maps and talked to someone in the hotel about our plans. I don’t remember exactly how we went, but we drove down Hollywood Boulevard and at one point, we were on Wilshire Boulevard. As we drove, our attention was drawn away from the sights and to a grouping of helicopters hovering over the highway ahead of us. There was a crowd of folks on both sides of the road. We wondered if they were filming a movie. As we got closer, I saw that one of the helicopters was the police and the others were for various news channels. Police cruisers were parked all along the side of the highway. As I drove through the hostile crowd, I realized we were in the wrong place—that this was the protest we’d been hearing about all morning. We crept along, angry protestors on each side of the road shouting obscenities at each other. The crowds were being contained for the moment. We quickly turned on the radio; all stations were reporting what was happening…

We got through just in time. I noticed the two groups moving out into highway just after we past by. We quickly took off to the airport, thankful for if we’d been a minute or two later we’d been caught up in the mess and would have no doubt missed our flight. The protest turned into a large enough riot that after landing in Japan, we get to read all about it in an English newspaper.

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Our riot troubles didn’t stop in America. My parents had planned to meet us at the Narita Airport, which was still relatively new then and being pestered by Japanese farmers who weren't too happy with its location. In protest, they blocked the train tracks that day. We spent an hour wandering the airport, wondering what we should do, while my parents tried to get to the airport. They finally showed up, after having transferred to a bus. We headed into Tokyo. It was getting very late and we were hungry. All the fast places to eat at the Tokyo station where closed and we didn’t have time to sit down and eat. We caught the train to Kamakura and had our first meal in Japan in the only place open, at a McDonalds across from the train station. So after flying half-way around the world, having had two close encounters with riots, my first meal in the orient was a McDonald’s fish sandwich.

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Even though the world was at nervous during our sojourner in Japan, it turned out to be a great time to travel. Because of Japan being so vulnerable to the loss of oil, the yen nosedived to record lows. I’d exchanged fifty dollars in LA, just to have some cash when I got to Tokyo. The rate was something like 160 or 170 yen to the dollar (remember, the dollar has fallen a lot since then, it's I think it's closer to 100 to a dollar). A day later, when I exchanged money at a bank in Japan, the rate was something like 260 yen to the dollar. We felt rich!

In another post, I’ll tell you about my experience of a riot in Berkeley… What is it about me, California, and riots?