The Park Hyatt Tokyo symbolizes alienation, not just for Bob and Charlotte but for everybody else, too. That's the nature of a hotel, Japanese or otherwise. A hotel is a place filled with people who don’t know each other and are pretty comfortable with just staring at their feet in an elevator.

Bob thinks the Park Hyatt is like a prison. Everybody stays in their own little room, stacked one on top of another, going about their business in isolation. They try not to make eye contact with anybody in the halls. They might take their meals in their room. There are exercise facilities on site. Everybody's required to wear orange jumpsuits.

Wait. We took that one step too far.

We stand by our claim that the hotel represents estrangement, though. With its English-speaking servers and with Sausalito rockin' out to B.B. King in the lounge, the Park Hyatt provides travelers with a way to experience Japan without ever experiencing Japan.

The fact that it's a luxury hotel in an international city known for its embrace of technology only ratchets up the detachment factor even more. For example, Bob has no idea what to make of his room's curtains that automatically zip open in the morning. Ditto for the shower that automatically turns on, and is about a foot too short for him to bathe comfortably.

The Park Hyatt's fancy technology only leaves Bob feeling further alienated, and possibly with shampoo in his hair.