Bad Yam Day

I let the first train go, well, I had the time to spare, I’d designed it that way. As this was the Yamanote line at 7:30 am I knew there would be another train along before I could finish humming the chorus from Lilly the Pink, and indeed that turned out to be true. There was one other person waiting next to me, he had also let the previous train go, also waiting for the next one in the hopes of getting a seat. When the doors opened some passengers got off and me and the other waiting person guy got on as soon as we could. He was moving too slow for my liking and took a seat opposite me. I saw a single available seat opposite the door and took it. I looked over the other guy: piggy eyes behind bad glasses, bad haircut and scarecrow clothes... “Bit of a freak” I thought, “Glad I’m not sitting next to him…” Pleased with myself I got my book out and opened it.
There are several things that can turn an uneventful train journey into an unpleasant passage of time trapped on a metal tube from which there is no escape. One of these things hit me in the face like a large dead fish soon after I started to read; it was the breath of the man sitting on my left.
What is it with Japanese salarimen and oral hygiene? What is so difficult about washing your teeth before you go to work? OK, coming home late in the evening everyone’s mouth has had time to ferment a bit – what with lunch, afternoon coffees and cookies and God knows what else. But at 7:30 in the morning everyone should only be 30 minutes past a good teeth scrub, and perhaps even a gargle and swoosh with the Listerine.
One thing to blame for this is the Japanese Salarimen’s habit of eating breakfast on the way to work, and what a breakfast it sometime is – raw onions and natto are the main ingredients of the oral crimes against humanity.
I could rant on for quite a while about the abomination that is the rotting and fungus filled beans called natto. The Japanese of course take a pride in eating something that everyone else regards as a failed experiment in chemical warfare, or putrefaction. One of the frequently asked boring questions Japanese is “Do you like natto?” The correct response to which is, “Oh no, I don’t like natto, I can’t eat it…” Which in turn produces a smug, satisfied smile of national pride.
Anyway, back on the Yamanote my neighbour was letting out the occasional sledgehammer mouth blast that would make me recoil and turn to the right.
When I did turn to the right I discovered I was sitting next to another freak. He was sniffing loudly, and it sounded as if he had a lot to sniff. A lank haired man in his late 20’s, he was leaning forward messing with a large tatty greasy looking black bag, from which he produced an entire box of tissues and proceeded to blow his mucus filled nose, and he blew and he blew and still the flow flowed.
I wasn’t able to concentrate on my book so well at this point. I was simply staring straight ahead of me and making the occasion side-glance to see what snot boy was doing. What he was doing was rolling up a tissue and pushing it up his nose. Perhaps this was the only way to stop the flow.
I turned away and got another blast of laser breath. I grasped my nose and held my breath. Why is it that all stinky-mouthed people are mouth breathers? Can’t they breathe through their noses and keep their foul mouths closed?
On my right snot boy was rummaging in his bag and brought out a plastic folder decorated with little stickers… oh no, what next. He opened up the folder to reveal postcard size photos of young girls. He was leaning forward, his shoulders round and stooped as if trying to hide. The photos appeared to be agency shots because I could see an agency’s name on each picture. Perhaps he worked for a talent agency and he was reviewing some hopefuls for a morning audition… perhaps. Or more likely he was some sad otaku who collected the cards and couldn’t resist flicking through them, even on the train.
At each station I hoped either, or better both of them would stand up and get off, but they didn’t. They stubbornly stayed sitting down, stopping me from enjoying the concluding chapters of Dave Gorman’s Googlewhack Adventure. I had a 28 minute journey, and even with only half of it completed I was buggered if I was going to give up my seat just because a couple of freaks were making things uncomfortable. My only counter freakiness is being foreign and I used it as best I could. It usually works for well for me – I sit there, reading my book and looking foreign and often people will not sit next to me. Great! I get the extra space and safety from oral odor attacks. But today, perhaps because they were there first, my foreignness didn’t bother them at all.
Finally with about 8 minutes to go stinky mouth got up and left but before I could shift over to his seat someone else sat down. The otaku was sniffing and snorting deeply and pouring over his photos. I got up and moved to the doors and a few minutes later I was walking down the steps at Shimbashi station, in a much worse mood than I had been 30 minutes before… I’ve got to reread Viktor Frankl…