Packed like sardines on a bus

Because I view my scooter as a demonic machine bent on my doom (though I think it's warming up to me), I often find myself on a bus going to and from the church in Tarumi where I teach. If I'm not taking the bus somewhere, you can probably find me on one of Japan's innumerable trains. Public transit in Japan consists primarily of a network of national and local trains and national and local buses. In any given city, a person can hop on either a train or bus and never worry about driving a car through often congested streets.

Both buses and trains work like clockwork, which is both very convenient and, at times, more than mildly stressful. If a bus is set to leave at 9:07 do not expect that bus to be sitting at the stop at 9:08. If a train leaves the station at 8:58, I would not suggest moseying up the stairs in the station at 8:58, and neither would any Japanese person below the age of 80 (once you turn 80 in Japan, your life's purpose becomes slowing people down on their commute on stairways, in doorways, or along narrow hallways or sidewalks as if to become a living obstacle course for the communter on the move). From my limited observations of Japanese business people, travelers, and from a small bit of personal experience, let me offer a couple pointers for commuting in Japan...

First, if running behind by even thirty seconds, begin your day with sprints. If unaware of the punctuality of public transportation, one might think a light jog or "power walk" pace is acceptable to catch the train out of town that only comes through every half-hour... not so. Only a sprint fast enough to endanger the lives of those you zoom by can ensure your standing spot on the morning train. When you step on the train, other passengers should be wondering what feryl animal has chased you all the way into the city and up to the passenger car. They should be expecting you to pull out your Olympic medal to remind them that you must, in fact, race everywhere (which I imagine Olympians actually do). If you are not doubled over wondering why all the oxygen has been removed from the car, you need to work on your pace.

Second, on busy buses or trains, prepare for one of two scenarios. Let's call the first scenario the "musical chairs commute." In this delightful traveling game, standing train and bus passengers are quiet and polite, checking their cell phones or listening to music or reading a book (which, by the way, is almost magical to watch as I hang on for dear life while the bus driver only knows 'slam on the brake,' 'step on it,' and the 'two-wheel turn'). Suddenly, when the car or bus arrives at a stop, the otherwise unassuming commuters race to fill seats left vacant by exiting passengers. Those who are "out," the ones who can't find a seat, then either file to what seems like the most promising or strategic location for the next stop or relegate themselves to a more comfortable standing space near the doors.

The second game is the exact opposite of the first. It begins looking like musical chairs... the train car or bus is full. Passengers are standing so tightly that, short of the car flipping, noone is going anywhere. Then, as the car stops, the game changes. As passengers file out at their stop, the remaining commuters play the "Statues" game (the one that your parents used when you got too rambunctious--its partner is the popular car ride game "The Quiet Game"). Out of politeness (I think), the passengers do not move at all to fill the seats. This leaves the new passengers, who inevitably remain standing because their hopes of reaching the newly empty seats is negligible, increasing the pressure on the bus or train as if being certain that only sardines in a can could fit more tightly than us on the bus. Each stop a few seats empty, and each stop more and more people mysteriously find new places to stand. This continues until a major train or bus stop. Then the game resets.

Finally, I hope you've been watching Animal Planet, because it is salmon season all year round at the train station. Each year, to mate, salmon swim upstream to the place where they hatched to spawn. In a show of humanity recreating nature, there are inevitably those select few (or many) who manage to find the giant group of people going one way on a staircase and brave the waters to "go against the flow." Sometimes this is an aforementioned elderly person who has chosen the station as his or her battleground. Other times, this is the sprinter who must get on the train that you just exited (which, if you are halfway down the stairs and this person is just passing you, take a moment and watch in wonder as they move at inhuman speeds to catch the train as the doors are about to close). A third group is the small coalition of salarymen/women who started innocently up the stairs to the platform only to be ambushed by the herd of exiting passengers (think wildebeest stampede in the Lion King minus the tragic result). Whoever the "salmon" happen to be, this scenario is all too common as people go, filled with purpose, from place to place.

Perhaps the strangest part of all of these "games" we play as commuters is that they really do feel like games a lot of the time. Maybe it's just new-foreigner syndrome (NFS), but I can't help but chuckle a little when 7 seats are open and we all pack in around the seats. Sure, they could be filled, but how bad would you feel when the older lady that laid down a mean block on the stairs has to stand up for her thirty-minute commute to the city? Very (I found it out the hard way when I mistook my Statues train car for a Musical Chairs car). And though I may be sucking air for 20 minutes, the sprint I make to the train is done so I don't have to find my way through an otherwise incredibly confusing array of streets and cities by my own (expensive) car. I would be lost forever if I had to drive everywhere. And though it is unfortunate to be the salmon, I have yet to see any collisions going up or down stairs. People flow like water right around the person.

Japanese public transportation gets an A for cleanliness, promptness, and overall appearance, but an A++ for fun. Next time you're stuck in traffic, think of me zooming by overhead in a packed train car on my way to pretty much wherever I could ever want to go in Japan. Adjusting to life continues and so do the joys and challenges that come with it.