Logic vs. Commute

Commuters wait for their train

I hate commuting with the same passion that workers the world over understand. We are all united in this underlying frustration that is wasting so much energy trying to get to a place we don't even particularly want to go to, especially at such an ungodly hour in the morning. 

The longer I've been commuting in Japan, around Tokyo, the more I've come to long for the commutes that most Americans suffer through. Admittedly, I've never actually commuted to work in America, but the idea sounds more and more appealing as the days roll past.

While Americans are forced to sit in their adjustable, air conditioned cars (complete with comfortable seats, a radio and a music player), Japanese people are crammed into trains. I don't mean that as hyperbole; Japanese people are crammed into trains. Every morning I am slammed into a metal railing that prevents me from falling into the lap of the person who was lucky enough to grab a seat beside me. You know immediately who has been working so hard that they haven't had time to shower. 

When you finally get to the final station, a torrent is unleashed from the train, and I've watched several bewildered tourists and backpackers flung aside in its wake. Everyone is either flat-out running to make the next train or carelessly clawing, jabbing and stepping on your feet to get ahead of the onslaught. 

When I finally reach my destination train station, I have to weave and dart past people, literally fighting for enough space to get up the stairs and to the ticketing counters so I can just leave the station. 

And finally, finally, I'm outside in real air, able to breathe without hitting anyone if I don't stretch my arms out too far. 

Then I reach the bus stop, and the source of my current problem: 

As you can hopefully see from this map I created, the bus stop for the bus I need to ride is located in a corner, meaning that people (the blue dots) line up in a kind of horseshoe to get on the bus. I don't care if I'm within that horseshoe, but when I'm not (see the red dot), then the problem arises. 

Do I follow that horseshoe shape to get on the bus? Or do I do what the diagram above suggests and just wait for all of the people in front of me to get on the bus, and then go directly on the bus from where I'm standing? 

Logic says I should wait. 

The problem is that I can feel the impatience of the commuters behind me, their bodies shifting anxiously, as if the bus will leave without them. 

But my God I hate doing illogical things, and following that horsehoe shape is a complete waste of time. 

So I wait and shoulder the stress of the people behind me, hoping they can realize I'm being logical. 

Sometimes when I'm within the shape of the horseshoe, and I look back at whoever is standing in that red dot position, I see some people waiting there like I do. I like to think I'm starting a trend. 

And then yesterday, I was in the dreaded red dot position, and I waited, pretending to fiddle with my Smartphone in order to give me something to do. 

The person behind me tapped my shoulder. 

I looked at the bespectacled man, bewildered. 

"Are you in line? Mind if I go ahead?" he asked.

"Um, sure," I said. 

So I stood there, and he went past me to follow the horseshoe shape. 

The people behind him followed him. 

I was completely flabbergasted as I stood there, watching them all follow that horseshoe shape.

Sometimes I've watched little kids run up to their parents, tag their parent's leg, and then run off in the opposite direction. Back and forth they go like little boomerangs, wildly excited by the repetitive game. 

I felt like that parent, waiting there while my kids made a pointless detour to get on the bus. 

And then I waited until I spotted the bespectacled man. 

I cut in behind him and got on the bus. I wanted him to at least feel like he'd accomplished something, I guess.  

How can people be so ingrained in the commute pattern that they don't see how illogical some of their actions are? Exactly how robotic are people anyway? 

The Dentist

At the dentist's

Last Monday I felt pain in the lower-left part of my mouth. Like the times before when some part of me has hurt, I ignored it for a couple of days.

By Wednesday, however, the pain was such that I couldn't chew anything on the left side of my mouth. Touching my left lower cheek brought excruciating pain.

Unlike many people in this world, I do not hate going to the dentists. Of course I don't treasure the experience, but I don't find excuses not to go.

So when I felt this pain, and it didn't get any better, I saw my local dentist.

Since most Japanese people don't get out of work until around 8pm, and most doctor's offices close at around 5pm, the waiting room was empty when I walked in at 3pm.

The receptionist took one look at me and seemed to hold her breath while keeping her eyes steady on me as I took my shoes off at the door and slipped into the slippers every doctor's office in Japan forces its patients to wear for reasons beyond my comprehension.

I've started to enjoy waiting out the agony doctor's office receptionists experience when they see me walk in through the door. Every single time I get the stare of, "Oh dear God I last took English in high school and I don't remember anything except 'hello.' What do I do? Does she speak Japanese? She doesn't look like she speaks a word of Japanese. What do I do?"

I like waiting until the last minute to speak to them, because they always drive me crazy after they find out I can speak Japanese.

This receptionist at the dentist's office was pretty loud and straightforward about her relief that I could, in fact, speak enough Japanese to communicate with her.

"I saw you come in through the door and I panicked," she said. "I'm so glad you can speak Japanese. I'm so shocked you can speak Japanese!"

Japan is not a place for any non-Japanese-looking person hoping to blend in with the background. When all I wanted to do was sit down in the waiting room and nurse my aching mouth, I stood there answering the receptionist's questions about my Japanese ability while the nurses flooded in behind the receptionist to take a look at the foreigner.

Finally I got to sit down and battle the form, naturally written all in Japanese. It's one thing to feel like you've got a good handle on written Japanese; it's quite another to fill out a doctor's form.

While I tackled the form, an old man shuffled through the main door. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him wordlessly move my shoes (still at the entrance to the place) so they were pointing toward the door, then he did the same for his own. He exchanged a few brief words with the receptionist and then sat down far away from me.

The receptionist clicked on the TV just in time for a 15 minute program dedicated to radio exercises for the elderly. I watched as they had three perpetually smiling women do basic stretches, one of them in a chair for, as the narrator said, "those of you who can't stand." On and on the stretching and lunges went while a middle-aged woman plugged away a chipper song on a nearby grand piano.

As the station slipped into the news, I handed in my form to the dentist's receptionist and waited. An elderly woman battled with the step up you have to take from the entrance of the place to the actual waiting area, and then she sat down in between the old man and me.

One of the nurses came out and looked at me.

"For how long can you afford to be here today?"

"Um...until four."

I had no idea why she wanted to know that.

"Ok, I'm sorry, but we'll have them go ahead of you and then have you come in."

No explanation of why, but I sat there struggling to comprehend the news while the old man and woman were looked at before me.

Finally it was my turn.

The dentist, an elderly man, took one look at a cap I have on a tooth in my lower left jaw and said, "We need an X-ray."

After the X-ray, I watched the nurse put the little photo of my teeth on a light board near the chair they had me at, and everything looked fine to me. Then the dentist looked at it.

He leaned forward toward the light board, making noises of shock and disapproval.

"Well, I can give you something for the pain," he said, "and I can shave down the capped tooth, but if the pain doesn't stop, I'll have to take out the _____________."

The joys of Japanese. Of course I don't understand the important part. I only knew he wasn't suggesting I have my tooth taken out. That was it.

So while my mind wildly tried to fill in the blank in the world's worst version of ad libs, the dentist went on to explain why whatever it was that needed to be taken out had to be taken out, but why he would only do it as a last resort.

He then went on to shave down my tooth, which was not a fun experience, and then I was free to go. If the pain didn't recede, then I would need to come back.

I slipped into my shoes, pointing toward the door, and promised I'd call if the pain was still there in a few days.

The Battle to Study Rages On

Tokyo Tower

I've got a little over a month left until my next round with the JLPT Level One begins. I think I'm starting to go a little bit crazy studying, too.

Currently, I'm studying 559 words, and that number dramatically increases with each passing week. Add to that the 80+ grammar points I need to know like the back of my hand and the fact that only studying 559 words isn't going to anywhere near cut it, and I would dare say I am doomed yet again.

I should also be listening to more news in Japanese and reading fascinating essays that range from one person's views on traffic control in Japan to the ways in which Japanese people have communicated over the centuries.

I think I'm starting to annoy anyone near me who speaks Japanese.

The minute they say a word I'm studying or utter a grammar point, I will politely trample over their speaking to declare, "Hey, I'm studying that right now!" This is initially met with shock and a slow nod of the head, but as time passes and I continue to interject with this meaningless comment, the nods become more pronounced, as if I'm a kid who's just spotted an airplane flying overhead.

I'm tired of studying. For the past two years I've been studying. I'd like to stop and take a break.

Instead, I'm about to look up what 墓地 means in English and add that to my list of 559 vocabulary words. That, and about 30 other words.