Cyberpunk

Fulfilling a lifelong cyberpunk dream of mine here in Kyoto:  staying in a Japanese pillbox hotel room. 

Yes, that’s my tshirt on a hanger for scale.  My hair brushes against the bathroom ceiling.  Again, tshirt for scale.
 The place is called the Smile Hotel.  But I suspect the name was chosen primarily to torture the poor old taxi driver who drove me here from the train station, muttering “Soo-mah-yah-ruh Hotel…Soo-mah-yah-ruh Hotel…” to himself, over and over again, the whole way here.

Was I overconfident in my Spartanmindedness when I booked this trip?  I don’t know.  It was months and months ago.  I mean, I have 50% fewer parents than I did at the time.  That’s how long it’s been.  Just saying.