First, Nick, are you dead? Write something you plum.
Now, if you even vaguely read any of the stuff below, you will know that I have finally found myself a job, and whats more, first impressions are that although there would appear to be roughly bugger all for me to do, what I have done is not work of the “well, alright then” type, but more of the “when there is more of it I might enjoy it” type, which is good.
That, however, has absolutely nothing to do with todays rant. Todays rant is about taking your life into your hands, staring death in the face and laughing, grabbing your own balls and twisting. Or, simply getting to the office in Japan.
Being a pedestrian
This is ok, but is not without its risks. These risks come in the form of cyclists, who are all generally psychotic, with Evil Kenevil-esque death wishes, and the cycling skills of a paraplegic chimpanzee in the circus. Its just bad news. Sometimes you are lucky enough to hear a bell behind you to leap out of the way (into the path of an on coming car). Cyclists generally are a bane, like a dangerous real threat to your life, like bears, killer bees, or exposure to hard vacuum. They really are that bad. On the way to the shops a week back I got sandwiched between TWO CYCLISTS trying to pass me at the same time. One rang their bell to get past, I turned in that direction saw them and tried to move, only to be caught, as she tried to pass, by another twat who tried to pass the opposite side of me. A Raleigh Shopper threesome. It was quite intimate, and very emotional. If I wasn’t with my wife then I’ve a feeling some very choice japanese would have been heading their way.
Its made worse by the fact that they have to go on the pavement, because if a cyclist goes on the road they are basically dead meat. The japanese are very random in their driving skill…..
Driving
Now, most of you know I can’t drive, but having been a passenger for 27 years I’ve begun to roughly recognice good driving and bad driving. For instance, I go with my teacher to Saitama every month which is a roughly 2 hour drive each way. He is a good driver, not too fast, never anything other than sensible, and always awlays watches the road and what others around him are doing. Then take my father in law. He’s getting a bit old, so I might be tempted to let it pass, but more than once I’ve genuinely feared for my life in his car. High speed corners, no indicators, fidling with the radio to get his classical japanese tapes playing (and watching the radio while doing it) have all made me want to grab the wheel while screaming at the top of my lungs and lunging for the brakes. Maybe its just because he’s old…..but hes not the only one. I’ve wathed plenty of drivers on the trips to Saitama. Many of them actually give me the stare WHILE THEY ARE DRIVING and all I can think of is “please watch the road and not the white guy. Please….” but my attempts at telepathy usually fall on deaf brains.
Buses
Whilst not as bad as trains, this can be “an experience” at times. Usually quite full during rush hours, they are at least fairly cheap, plus the driver has a PA system with him, which is vaguely amusing because japanese bus drivers announce EVERYTHING. I’ve even heard more than one announce “I am now turning a corner”. Brilliant. Also, on a japanese bus, you pay when you get off, and you take the ticket yourself, or pay the whole fair from the buses origin. This was quite confusing to start with (I take the ticket MYSELF?!). Generally, buses are a vaguely acceptable form of travel.
Trains
DEATH. Death death death death death. Thats where I ultimately think I’m headed everytime I get on a japanese train in rush hour. If you want beyond funny, you think bestiality, or maybe jumping out of planes and the parachute failing, or travelling on a japanese train.
Firtsly, you will notice that japanese rail commuters have no conception of “personal space”. I have been intimately close with a wide range of japanese business men, and I don’t like it. I think (note only *think*) that I have had my arse cheek cupped twice. Not grabbed, not gropped, cupped. This was deeply unsettling, and in no way arousing, especially when I crane my neck round and only see suited up blokes around me.
Now the reason that they have no idea what not-feeling-the-athletic-and-buff-white-guy’s-harris is, is because rail transport is a numbers game. The key number is how many people are squashed unceremoniously into the carriage, and unless its not a really fucking big number, I dont think the japanese are truly at peace with their commuting selves. That is, all apart from the guy who had a servely anguished look on his face for the 20 minutes he was on the train yesterday. Maybe someone was cupping his garbage and squeezed accidentally when the train lurched.
Boarding the japanese train is an exercise in the impossible. If its full, its not really. You stand in the door way, grab the rim above the door (which is unscrupulously clean – probably for this purpose) and using that as leverage do the salaryman push into the train. I’ve a feeling that my daily commute is either going to be hell for my back or is hugely orthopoedic, because I get bent in several interesting ways that I would have paid seventy quid down the clinic for in London.
One advantage I do have though, is my colossal height. I’m usually above everyone in the train, and often literally head and shoulders above some. So I get my book out and read it in the middle of the sardine can. This blatantly annoys a minority of commuters who still seem to think that, despite them being squased against me with pressure equal to the bottom of the Marianas Trench and therfore being able to feel my cock and balls with their thighs, they are still entitled to get annoyed with my for being close. Heh, I think I’m already past caring about this!
Getting pissed off
I’ve yet to do this. But I’ll tell you what, for a country that appears to pride itself on being polite and well mannered when compared to “foreigners” (ie the rest of the world) I witness MANY shouting matches on trains, especially when getting off when the person in front doesn’t get off quick enough for the business man in his eternal hurry to get no where. Last week I watched a man whilst HOLDING HANDS WITH HIS BIRD shout very loudly at another woman who was directly in front of him who was moving slowly because everyone else was. And they say chivalry doesn’t exist in japan. I saw another similar looking salary man shout at an old man and call him the equivalent of a stupid bastard when, despite having an entire open train doorway in front of him matey boy decided the quickest way off was to push the old man out of the way and swear and shout at him. Gotta love them in-grained quality japanese Good Manners!
The best one by far though was on my way back from the taikai in Hakone at the start of the month. Some big fella was asleep with his head poking out of the side of the end of the bench he was sat on. Another guy comes on and brushes his head as he navigates the carriage. Big bloke now gets up and starts very loudly shouting at this bloke calling him all sorts of well thought out names and challenging him to fights! Other guy remains very calm, but still throws the insults back (which I thought was brilliant) and this goes on, looks like its about to calm down when big bloke starts off again and thin bloke replies with “I don’t want to hear that from a fat bastard like you”. If I had not been expertly with holding my reaction already, I might have actually laughed out loud at this.
Pushing people – the obaa-chan shove
Angry, starving wild animals are agressive, as a general rule right? Take bears for instance. If Gentle Ben was hungry after a week of no food, bedragled, hungover and had just had a barny with the wife back at the cave after she caught him wanking, he wouldn’t be gentle anymore. What he would be though, is totally inadequate when put up against old japanese ladies on and around trains. The word of the day is PUSH, in fact, its PUSH. Thats what these crazy broads do, everywhere. Japanese old ladies are aggressive to a magnitude that would make an angry hornets nest look like a child’s rattle. I’ve been pushed by old ladies more times than I can think of, usually when I am standing innocently in the middle of the shortest route to goal. They appear to have no patience, and for some reason in more of a hurry than the psychotic salary men that run for everything. I think if you could find some way of combing the japanese commuting salary man, with the japanese commuting old lady, you could come up with the ultimate hybrid commuter, capable of felling cities and destroying countries with the simple act of getting on trains.
