I think my travel agent pulled some kind of sick joke on me by booking my flight to arrive at Narita airport at 6am. By the time I had picked up my luggage and passed through customs it was around 7am. The train trip from Narita to the edge of town is about fourty-five minutes, putting the time I would be hitting Tokyo proper smack bang in middle of the morning rush.
The trip turned from a nice, leisurely train ride to peak-hour chaos. Increasingly people piled onto the train. I managed to wrestle my guitar onto the luggage rack just as the last bit of space was consumed, but my backpack and daypack ended up between my legs. At one point I didn’t need to try to balance any more, the bodies around providing me with more than enough support to disconnect myself from the hand grip. The mass of bodies moved with the train, wobbling and waving with every turn. They moved down the carriage with each application of brake from the driver and returned to their spots as the train moved off again. More people were herded in by the handlers with their little white gloves at each station we hit. Japanese faces were literally pressed against the windows of the carriage, the walls and my shoulder blades. The momentum carried the swarm of people like seaweed on the tides.
I was getting kind of creeped out. There were hips and hands and arms and legs everywhere there shouldn’t be. I felt violated, and stared steadfastly through the window; too nervous to look around at who or what was poking into my personal space. I started to puff myself out, standing tall, pushing back against the flow of people. Up straight I was bigger and taller than 90 percent of the people in the carriage. I got to sticking out my elbows, trying to make space. It wasn’t working. Getting tired of being on guard I took off my headphones and looked around me, putting on my best “fuck off, weirdo” face. The train was silent. Strangely, eerily silent. Save for a few quiet coughs not one of the multitude of people crammed in around me made a sound. There was not a bleep from a cell phone. No school yard secrets were whispered between teenagers. Not even the distant tinkle of j-pop on headphones punctured the silence. I have been in Libraries louder than that carriage. It was so quiet I felt like whistling, just to break the implied tension that the silence generated. What’s more is that most of the people, including the four commuters pressed up against me, appeared to be asleep! Eyes closed, lids not even fluttering, calm, distant expressions on their faces. This was their moment of Zen. I relaxed. I rolled with it. All were one.
Finally reaching my stop, I groped for my guitar, apologising profusely in my sorry excuse for Japanese and started moving through the crowd. As packed as the carriage was I got through easier than I had imagined. Even with eyes closed my fellow sardines made space as I wiggled through. Incoming passengers waited calmly as a couple of other commuters and I popped out of the doors and onto the platform. The hole I left was quickly consumed, filled by eight Japanese salary men all assuming their eyes-closed, dreamlike look as the train pulled away. One of the guards on the platform smiled at me and gave me a little nod as I stood back taking a deep breath. I nodded back, picked up my gear, put my backpack on, and headed to the opposite platform to catch my connecting train. I decided to keep my gear on me this time. It was only a couple of stops. I stood first in line for my train. After only a moment it arrived, and a few people exited the packed carriage. I took a step towards the door and then suddenly I was careening across the gap. I didn’t so much as get on the train; I was forced. My feet lifted from the floor as about 15 people behind me, much more than the amount that left the train, rushed forwards. Gloved hands squeezed more commuters into the carriage, the doors ground shut and we rumbled onwards down the line.
I popped out the other side of the train at Asakusabashi Station, quickly found my hostel and dropped my bags. Still wearing shorts and thongs I hadn’t felt the one degree weather, but I changed into some jeans and whacked on a jacket after the staff at the hostel informed me it might snow today. SNOW!
This is Japan, and I love it.
By: simv
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