Airline review: What it's like to fly business class with Japan Airlines

I'm checking in at Sydney airport for a flight on a Boeing 787-9 that has a wingspan of 60.1 metres and a cruising speed of 916km/h. Its range is 14,800 kilometres, more than enough to get me to Tokyo Narita.

I know this from a display board provided by Japan Airlines. Rather more usefully, it informs me what meals will be served on board, and when. No need for an expensive airport breakfast, then. Another board is pinned with photos of airline staff. The Sydney branch manager. Operations and maintenance managers. Customer service staff. Thank you for choosing to fly with JAL today, says a banner beneath.

This touch of Japanese politeness and personalised service standards provides me with enough cheer to navigate customs and security without a scowl. When I board the aircraft into the business class cabin, another precursor of Japan sits piled on seat 3D. My pillow, blanket, toilet bag, headphones and slippers are all individually wrapped in plastic, and arranged as neatly as sweets in a Ginza shop. The movement against single-use plastic is barely a thing in Japan, a nation with a fetishist's delight in wrapping everything in multiple layers.

I'm in an aisle seat. Business class has a 2-2-2 seat layout in a slightly staggered arrangement that provides a short access corridor for window-seat occupants, but you'd have to be lithe as a ninja to use it. Or petite as a Japanese accustomed to folding herself into tiny noodle shops and compact bathrooms. Do the Japanese find aircraft toilets cramped? Probably not. My only disappointment on this flight is that the toilets aren't equipped with a Toto Washlet that offers a sprinkle and blow dry.

This is otherwise, though, quite the Japanese experience. As I settle into my seat the safety video gets underway with no-nonsense advice. The Japanese are all too familiar with emergencies, and understand the importance of clearly delivered, easy-to-follow instructions. We're spared the Hobbits and celebrity comedians that do nothing but distract from core safety messages. There's no glossing over what life jackets and escape chutes are for. This land of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions doesn't play cute with emergencies.

My flight attendant Yuko, who has introduced herself by name, is one of Japan's inexhaustible army of polite, hard-working, do-it-right service staff found everywhere from ryokans to fast-food restaurants. When I ask for water, it appears barely 30 seconds later with a fulsome apology for having made me wait.

Later, Yuko checks every overhead locker to make sure they're properly fastened. She murmurs in my ear that we'll be taking off shortly. Then she turns and bows at the cabin before strapping herself into a jump seat. Flight 772 is on its way to Tokyo.

I feel Tokyo has already arrived, though. The Japanese-ness that started at check-in continues through my nearly 10-hour flight, and is refreshing in this modern world of barely distinguishable international airlines. Sure, the flight attendants on Thai Airways have orchids pinned to their uniforms. Just before take-off on Etihad Airways, you get a murmured traveller's prayer in Arabic. Qantas has re-runs of The Castle.

On Japan Airlines, the endearing English is certainly typically Japanese. I open my inflight menu and discover peckish passengers can ask for biscuits called Press Butter Sand. (I've seen businesses in Japan called Soft Bank, Hotel Rose Lips and Blood Fire Shoe Repair.) The whole business class seating and dining system is known as BEDD which, I'm informed, stands for "bed, dining, delicious and dream".