A day in the life

Vignette 1:
Like a lot of people, I heard that in Tokyo, during rush hour, there are white-gloved train station attendants whose job it is to push people into the train before the doors shut. I've never seen them because I suspect they aren't actually necessary; the passengers do an admirable job themselves of squeezing in more people than is comfortable, or even likely safe. I stand on a morning Musashino line train bound for Tokyo, pinned between an office worker in a cheap black suit, a high school girl sending a text message on her pink cell phone with little Hello Kitty baubles hanging off it, an old man, and several college-aged men with bleached, rust-brown hair, cut in a mullet, which I suspect took the better part of the morning to arrange. I literally cannot move an inch in any direction. A hundred bodies radiate heat in the cramped quarters of the train car. I hope they turn the air conditioning on someday soon.

Vignette 2:
The bell rings, I take a last swig of coffee and gather my files and textbook. As I open the door to the classroom, I give a big, genki "hello, how are you?" to the lone student sitting nervously at the table. "Yes! My name is Masanobu!", he says. I let it slide. "I don't think we've met", I said. I was just transferred to a new school, so I don't know a lot of the students still. He cocks his head to the side and gives a long, throaty "Eh?". His intonation a long, exaggerated curve, starting somewhere in his stomach, up through his vocal cords, ending a few steps away from falsetto. This is Japanese for "I don't have any idea what you're talking about", "no way", or "You're a fucking idiot". You get the idea. "First time?" he says, gesturing between his nose and me with his forefinger. "Yeah. First time. Nice to meet you, Masanobu". Familiar territory now. "Nicetumeechutoo!", he belts out. "I am Masanobu Tanaka. I am salary man. My company is valve-design company in Kawasaki. Do you know? My hobby is sleeping and sing a song. I am 38 years old. Nicetumeechu". "Good to meet you too, I'm Quinn".

Vignette 3:
Kids. These ones are little. They're not even in kindergarden yet. They're the kind of kids who, when they meet someone, say their name, and hold up a number of fingers indicating their age.
"Ok everybody, let's see your homework!" I say. "Ok, Chiho, let's see yours first. Oh-kay, What is it?" I point to a crayon scribbled picture of a ball. "Ball!", she says. "It's a ball!" I say. "Ball!" she says, louder. "It's... A... Ball!" I enunciate as carefully as I can. "BALL!" she screams. "Ok, very good, high five, Chiho!".
The A/C is up a bit too high, and the room's a little chilly. Chiho winds up for her chance to hit the teacher, but at 5 years old, she mostly just hurts herself. She turns to the other students, and in Japanese says "Quinn sensei's hand is cold! Try it!". As I review the homework and high-five the other kids, they nod in agreement. "They're cold, huh", little Kenji says. "It's 'cause he's a foreigner" says Chiho, with the confident air of someone who holds up 5 fingers when they meet someone new. Kenji pipes up next. "Quinn sensei rides on an airplane from America every day. It's a long trip, huh.". Chiho shoots him as withering a look as a 5 year-old can muster. "No he doesn't, you idiot, he's always here. The airplane takes like 4 hours. I took an airplane once".

Vignette 4:
I'm in the general conversation room with all the regulars. We're practicing telling stories. The theme is animals. The demographic is mostly retired. "I have a story", Satoshi says, and clears his throat. "After... Eh... How do you say... World War II, we, didn't not have, ehto, the food, but I have two animals, chicken and rabbit. First, we eat eggs from chicken, then one day we... Ehto..." He trails off and searches for the word, finally resorting to mime, making two fists and twists them in opposite directions. "You know, like with a wet towel", and as he mimes breaking the chicken's neck, two college-aged girls visibly squirm. "Also, we have the rabbit. It make a very good neck warmer for winter! Verrry warm! Also, we eat rabbit hotpot soup! Verrrry delicious! You see, chicken and rabbit are pet AND food!".

Vignette 5:
The train home is crowded with overworked office workers who hang from the hand holds half asleep and all drunk. Men in their 50's sit reading comic books the size of phone directories. As I leave the train station, the gangster types are standing around, advertising hostess bars, prostitutes hang out, advertising themselves, drunk businessmen crash through the ticket gates without paying, and Tokyo slowly empties its working population into the suburbs,.There, they'll sleep for a few hours, until the whole thing starts over tomorrow morning.