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Right, where shall I start?
Perhaps with the comical sight I witnessed today, which leads nicely in the theme of crazy people. I was on my way back today from Takodanababa, and waiting for the local train at Shinagawa station. I was rather bemused as to why so many people forsook the express train that came in beforehand, and instead stood waiting for the local. Anyway, as the old engine pulled in a wall of cameras was raised to meet it. Just through the throng I could see the metal plaque on the front of the train which read "Last Run". So, I was getting on a train about to head for the giant scrapheap somewhere along the suburban depths of the Keikyu line.
Now, as I've taken to observing people on the train lately (reasons for which you will soon be enlightened to) I decided it would be interesting to follow the throng of backpack-clad trainspotters all jostling excitedly for a place at the front of the train. (The front position is actually pretty cool. Unlike English trains, you can watch the driver doing his methodical-pointy thing, and see up ahead along the rails to the forthcoming stations/suicides etc.) So I sat and pretended to read my book whilst actually deriving great amusement from watching these geeky boys rushing on and off the train to take photos everytime the train paused to let an express train by. There were trainspotters all along the route - at stations, level-crossings etc with their long lenses out snapping away. It was like being royalty or something, having your picture snapped as you rush past.
My main point of amusement was at how all trainspotters have the same "uniform", which is not unlike that of the "otaku" (I mean the socially crippled kind, not the cosplay kind). They all wore a variation on the theme of rucksacks, pressed chino-style trousers or jeans, flannel shirts or sweaters, and all wore glasses and had the same haircut. The best thing for me though was how they all seemed to have the same way of walking, like they've only just got into their body and haven't quite worked out that muscles can relax. I wasn't the only one on the train deriving pleasure from observing the train fanboys. A woman sitting opposite me was chuckling away to her friend as she observed the panicked jostling for prime position at the front.
Trainspotters are, for the most part, harmlessly geeky males. However, two weeks ago I was tormented by the much more annoying and creepy type of male train passenger. The weirdo. My first was one Wednesday morning on the way to work when the guy sitting opposite me sat with his index finger firmly inserted in his nostril (nay, his brain!) for the 7 minutes it took to get from Kawasaki to Yokohama. In between twitching violently and throwing paranoid stares at his fellow passengers, he pulled out choice nuggets from his cavity and distributed them liberally about the carriage. It was all I could do not be sick. I should have clocked him on the platform as he was a wearing a shell-suit, which we all know to be a sign of being one sandwich short of a picnic, no matter which culture you live in.
The second one was that same night - a relatively harmless older drunk guy, loudly proclaiming his exhuastion to a carriage full of drunk, exhausted, and sleeping salarymen. "I'm so tired!" he kept half-yawning, half-shouting. I turned my iPod up a bit louder and prayed that he wasn't about to projectile vomit.
The next night was also a drunk guy. I was trying to work out where he and his gaggle of giggling friends were from, but I couldn't catch enough of their language to have a stab at a continent, let alone a country. Anyway, this dude sat down next to me, and in true weirdo fashion was sporting a tracksuit which can only be described (in Ignatius O'Reilly fashion) as an abortion to good taste and decency. I can't even begin to describe the vomit-spatter of day-glo pattening upon his person, but from the way he was shoving his friend's head into his crotch for all to see, he clearly thought he was "da bomb", or somesuch other term for deluded self-confidence. However, tormenting his gap-toothed friend with simulated fellatio was not enough, and so he decided to try and get my attention my waving his hand in my face. I ignored him and sunk down into the safety of my coat. He retatilated by having his photo taken with me. I'm sure there's a picture of me on Facebook somewhere with my "Fuck you" London face sitting next to a drooling moron whose clothes make your eyes bleed.
Number 4, was comparitivley more comical. This time, I'd clocked his ragged form on the platform and chosen to stand in the line for the next carriage. However, he somehow managed to end up getting on at the same door as me (crazies like me, it seems). I knew things were going downhill when he moonwalked onto the train. As the express pulled away from Yokohama station I detected some sort of shuffling movement behind me and in the reflection on the glass in the door I watched this old guy attempt a combination of train-surfing and hip-hop dancing between passengers. I found it interesting to note that whilst this was happening, everyone on the train pretended to ignore him, or actively turned their heads away from him. He gave up getting our attention after a while and moved further down the train to give the seated passengers some form of torturous lapdance.
So, as you may understand, I was beginning to feel rather victimized by the end of that week. Touch wood, there won't be anymore until at least tomorrow. What I always find odd here, is the number of people who are socially crippled in one way or another. Of course, there are people with genuine problems, but meeting as many people as I do, I'm staggered by how many people cannot interact properly with other human beings. On Saturday I taught three guys for the first time. Two of them were fine, personable, funny people. The third, who must be at least the same age as me or older, sat with his head down and turned to the back of the room for a full 45 minutes. Both times he spoke, he spoke one sentence and seemed surprised when I tried to get more out of him. The thing is, I have someone like this in about 40% of my lessons, with varying degrees of severity and behavioural quirks. Is it me? Am I being unkind, or is Japan breeding a population of social cripples?
Which reminds me of a story from a friend I need to relate about a 36-year old valium muncher. Later.
Perhaps with the comical sight I witnessed today, which leads nicely in the theme of crazy people. I was on my way back today from Takodanababa, and waiting for the local train at Shinagawa station. I was rather bemused as to why so many people forsook the express train that came in beforehand, and instead stood waiting for the local. Anyway, as the old engine pulled in a wall of cameras was raised to meet it. Just through the throng I could see the metal plaque on the front of the train which read "Last Run". So, I was getting on a train about to head for the giant scrapheap somewhere along the suburban depths of the Keikyu line.
Now, as I've taken to observing people on the train lately (reasons for which you will soon be enlightened to) I decided it would be interesting to follow the throng of backpack-clad trainspotters all jostling excitedly for a place at the front of the train. (The front position is actually pretty cool. Unlike English trains, you can watch the driver doing his methodical-pointy thing, and see up ahead along the rails to the forthcoming stations/suicides etc.) So I sat and pretended to read my book whilst actually deriving great amusement from watching these geeky boys rushing on and off the train to take photos everytime the train paused to let an express train by. There were trainspotters all along the route - at stations, level-crossings etc with their long lenses out snapping away. It was like being royalty or something, having your picture snapped as you rush past.
My main point of amusement was at how all trainspotters have the same "uniform", which is not unlike that of the "otaku" (I mean the socially crippled kind, not the cosplay kind). They all wore a variation on the theme of rucksacks, pressed chino-style trousers or jeans, flannel shirts or sweaters, and all wore glasses and had the same haircut. The best thing for me though was how they all seemed to have the same way of walking, like they've only just got into their body and haven't quite worked out that muscles can relax. I wasn't the only one on the train deriving pleasure from observing the train fanboys. A woman sitting opposite me was chuckling away to her friend as she observed the panicked jostling for prime position at the front.
Trainspotters are, for the most part, harmlessly geeky males. However, two weeks ago I was tormented by the much more annoying and creepy type of male train passenger. The weirdo. My first was one Wednesday morning on the way to work when the guy sitting opposite me sat with his index finger firmly inserted in his nostril (nay, his brain!) for the 7 minutes it took to get from Kawasaki to Yokohama. In between twitching violently and throwing paranoid stares at his fellow passengers, he pulled out choice nuggets from his cavity and distributed them liberally about the carriage. It was all I could do not be sick. I should have clocked him on the platform as he was a wearing a shell-suit, which we all know to be a sign of being one sandwich short of a picnic, no matter which culture you live in.
The second one was that same night - a relatively harmless older drunk guy, loudly proclaiming his exhuastion to a carriage full of drunk, exhausted, and sleeping salarymen. "I'm so tired!" he kept half-yawning, half-shouting. I turned my iPod up a bit louder and prayed that he wasn't about to projectile vomit.
The next night was also a drunk guy. I was trying to work out where he and his gaggle of giggling friends were from, but I couldn't catch enough of their language to have a stab at a continent, let alone a country. Anyway, this dude sat down next to me, and in true weirdo fashion was sporting a tracksuit which can only be described (in Ignatius O'Reilly fashion) as an abortion to good taste and decency. I can't even begin to describe the vomit-spatter of day-glo pattening upon his person, but from the way he was shoving his friend's head into his crotch for all to see, he clearly thought he was "da bomb", or somesuch other term for deluded self-confidence. However, tormenting his gap-toothed friend with simulated fellatio was not enough, and so he decided to try and get my attention my waving his hand in my face. I ignored him and sunk down into the safety of my coat. He retatilated by having his photo taken with me. I'm sure there's a picture of me on Facebook somewhere with my "Fuck you" London face sitting next to a drooling moron whose clothes make your eyes bleed.
Number 4, was comparitivley more comical. This time, I'd clocked his ragged form on the platform and chosen to stand in the line for the next carriage. However, he somehow managed to end up getting on at the same door as me (crazies like me, it seems). I knew things were going downhill when he moonwalked onto the train. As the express pulled away from Yokohama station I detected some sort of shuffling movement behind me and in the reflection on the glass in the door I watched this old guy attempt a combination of train-surfing and hip-hop dancing between passengers. I found it interesting to note that whilst this was happening, everyone on the train pretended to ignore him, or actively turned their heads away from him. He gave up getting our attention after a while and moved further down the train to give the seated passengers some form of torturous lapdance.
So, as you may understand, I was beginning to feel rather victimized by the end of that week. Touch wood, there won't be anymore until at least tomorrow. What I always find odd here, is the number of people who are socially crippled in one way or another. Of course, there are people with genuine problems, but meeting as many people as I do, I'm staggered by how many people cannot interact properly with other human beings. On Saturday I taught three guys for the first time. Two of them were fine, personable, funny people. The third, who must be at least the same age as me or older, sat with his head down and turned to the back of the room for a full 45 minutes. Both times he spoke, he spoke one sentence and seemed surprised when I tried to get more out of him. The thing is, I have someone like this in about 40% of my lessons, with varying degrees of severity and behavioural quirks. Is it me? Am I being unkind, or is Japan breeding a population of social cripples?
Which reminds me of a story from a friend I need to relate about a 36-year old valium muncher. Later.
