Dodging Bullets

I sat there, waiting, watching the crowd of Japanese commuters make their way to the back of the bullet train. I sighed to myself. How do I get myself into these situations? I wondered. I can do planes, cars and boats. I will even hang my head out of a helicopter flying over a plane of ice in Alaska. Now, the only thing I can’t handle, the only mode of transportation I try to avoid at all costs, is the most popular, fastest and really the only way to travel in this foreign land.

            I remember the first time I went on a train. I was so excited then, my face pressed against the window as I saw tree’s fly past us. Then, we went on what seemed to be a poorly built bridge and stopped. I heard the fast patter of feet heading to the head car as I looked over and saw the drop below us. Then the train started rocking as I quickly looked away holding my breath, my mother sleeping peacefully beside me. For what seemed like hours for me only took a few minutes to correct as we started moving again.

            I leaned back as the conductor collected our group’s tickets, making sure we belonged on this particular train. I pulled my ticket from my pocket and passed it to the conductor. He gave me a soft smile and I quickly looked away as he returned my ticket to me and headed to the next car. The guys traveling in the group found various ways of entertaining themselves by playing with their Nintendo DS Lite, tuning everyone out with a CD player, an IPod or just talking to each other to pass the time. Why couldn’t I do this? Why couldn’t I just reach into my bag and grab my IPod and tune out everything around me? Simple, all I wanted to do was arrive at my destination safe, sound and in one piece. I was about to get up when I felt a gentle tug…too late.

            The bullet train! The fastest train in Japan and also the one of the quietest modes of transportation available was not a joy ride for me. Most people would enjoy the bullet train experience. Yet I couldn’t get comfortable. Houses and trees flashed by me as I was squished against the aisle with my huge black suitcase. Over the loudspeaker I heard our next stop was five minutes away. That would have been wonderful news if the stop was ours. I only prayed that no one would need to sit next to me since my suitcase wouldn’t fit in the overhead compartments.

            We stopped for five minutes, our sponsor and guardian received a phone call and disappeared. I turned in my seat about to close my eyes when a grunt came from behind me. I turned again, showing a fake smile as a man in a navy blue suit pointed to my seat I to let me know that it was his. I nodded and moved my suitcase to the unoccupied seats behind us. He tapped me on the shoulder and shook his head. He clearly didn’t speak English and my Japanese was nil. I pointed to the open seat as he pointed to the overhead compartment. I tried to explain to him that my baggage was too large and would not fit in the overhead compartment.  I removed my suitcase from the seats behind us and was about to prove my point when he promptly took his seat and opened his newspaper. Our very poor attempt at conversation was over. He was finished trying to communicate with me, and I with him. I sat in the empty seats behind him, pulled out my IPod and listened to music, hoping that our stop would be the next one.

            Sure enough…it wasn’t. Instead, a Japanese woman and her young son boarded the train. She told her son to sit in the seat across from mine then turned to me. Oh no, not again, I thought. This might turn out to be a very long game of charades in order to get my point across. If it wasn’t for her gracious smile, I wouldn’t have moved. She pointed to the seat which my suitcase was blocking. I looked at her son for a second, a four-year-old, then at her. “Would you like to sit with you son?”

She stared at me and just kept pointing to the opposite seat stating softly, “Zhat is my seat. Please.”

I nodded and pointed to her son, and then the two seats, and smiled, repeating what I had said earlier slower. She laughed and nodded happily as I moved my suitcase once more to an empty seat, feeling good about helping the young mother. The guy reading the newspaper looked at me and shook his head.  I quickly turned around, unable to wipe the smile off my face, and went to sleep.

            Trains, how can people like them? I liked Thomas the tank engine only because he didn’t go fast and he had a cute little face. Big trains that shake continuously make loud noises and have curious and unusual people on them make me uncomfortable and a bit undone. The business man, reading the newspaper is enough to keep me from such adventures. Then I realize that it’s people like the woman and her small son that make me happy that I rode the bullet train in Japan.

Reviews

[Dalebear]

Good write