It’s been a few weeks now since I arrived in Japan, during which I’ve done everything I expected I would do; Be a massive nerd, get lost, fight demons, get found, panic, and hide in my room for days on end, all the while taking special care to shirk all of my responsibilities. The good news is the panic did not last for long and excursions into the concrete wilderness have been frequent and rewarding. Equally frequent are my uses of these strange creatures common in this great island nation. These long beasts of metal and glass were introduced to the environment by foreign traders in the late 1800s. Free from the natural predators of their native lands these gentle giants reproduced quickly, spreading across the country at an alarming rate. Now they are fully domesticated and can be found in every town and city, diligently ferrying people across the land. The locals call them “denshya.” Loosely translated I believed that means “train.”
Now this was by no means my first encounter with the rail-bound kind. I had in the States, on rare occasion, interactions with trains. Though unlike their Japanese counterparts the American species had a unique aroma I can’t describe here (at least not without risk of being fired). Also, very true to American form, the western trains were frenetic creatures, arriving and departing at their whim, beholden to no agenda of man. In addition to being more prolific, the eastern sub-species is far more obedient, bending to mankind’s will and arriving at stations in predictable, precise patterns.
However these creatures are not without their risks. The train is a very territorial animal and will viciously attack anyone it finds on it’s tracks. To counter this threat the Japanese have developed advanced early warning systems in the form of giant red buttons. A single push will stop the beasts cold, giving would-be victims precious time to flee. The Japanese spell out the use of such devices with amusing, child-friendly (yet surprisingly morbid) cartoons that play on the trains themselves.
In order to move around this sprawling city I’ve been forced to form an uneasy bond with these beasts. This was an uneasy transition for me, partially because I’m an American suburbanite, but mostly because I’m fat (more on that in a moment). America is very much a car culture. Car ownership, or at least access and working knowledge of cars, is assumed, especially for suburbanites. Being bound to a set route after years of vehicular freedom is a strange challenge, especially when the route requites changing trains (sadly done via stairs and immobile platforms and not, as I had imagined, dramatic leaps from moving cabs).
The other issue is space. Now Japanese trains have four general states; ’empty’, ‘full’, ‘packed’, and ‘the human body was not designed for this much pressure.’ This is a problem for me since I have the fat. Also being a suburbanite I grew up with the concept of ‘personal space’ and generally find being touched by strangers to be uncomfortable. Allow me to point out a key fact here; Japanese business men do not care about personal space. When a train is at ‘packed’ or above it’s understandable since there isn’t really room to move (or breath in some cases). However even in ‘full’ states where more room can be created by shifting slightly or sliding legs together, the typical business man will not, possibly due to paralysis by apathy. Now I’ve noticed Japanese women will try their hardest to respect my personal space, though I suspect that’s either due to fear of the hairy gaijin man, or disgust of the sweaty gaijin man.
