I wait maybe 20 seconds at the front desk for a clerk. I hand her my credit card she grasps it respectfully in two hands and thanks me. .
My circular room overlooks a pond and garden that are rare in the world's most populated city. It's a big space by Tokyo standards.
And the bathroom is oversized by any standard.
There's a lot to like about my room: the view, fresh fruit and two chilled Asahi awaiting me, the quiet (aside from the 5:00 p.m. gong that interrupts my daily nap), the forceful showers and the Japan Times awaiting me each morning.
I book a 60-minute in-room massage for $65 (and there's no tipping in Japan).
My therapist is a kind, matronly lady. I lie on my bed (clothing on) as she vigorously kneads me from head to feet with quick circles of the heel of her hand. It's not unpleasant.
My troubled neck feels great.
There's no concierge lounge at the Prince Sakura Tower but the breakfast buffet helps to compensate for it. Every morning I indulge in eggs benedict cooked to order.
But I don't eat here other than breakfast: there's just too many foodie choices in Tokyo.