Everyday we take a commuter train from our dormitory in the small town of Hirooka, to work in the city of Matsumoto. The train is usually packed with commuters, such that it's usually impossible to get a seat and we have to spend the 15 minute train ride standing. I'm not complaining though, I've ridden on the Tokyo subway, I know things get much much worse (sardines in a can). On this particular day, I managed to find a seat.
I was coming home from work by myself this evening. It was Tuesday, May 1st. Ryan had gone on ahead, but I needed to go to the bank to pull out some money for Golden Week, a week-long holiday in the first week of May. I got to the train station 5 minutes before the train arrived. Great, that means I'll get a seat, I thought. Turns out it wasn't so great.
I sat down on a bench seat on the train. There were empty spaces to both the left and right of me. Not surprising, I thought. Most Japanese would rather stand then sit next to a foreigner. Then someone did. An old man carrying a plastic bag sat to my right. I couldn't immediately smell alcohol on him, so I figured this wouldn't be too bad a ride. Drunken passengers are often found on trains trying to be social or just plain obnoxious.
The old man pulled out a can of tea to drink and a rice ball wrapped in seaweed, a common Japanese snack. He then turned to me.
"Is this called rice ball?" he asked me in English.
"Uh... yes," I said.
The man looked satisfied, and proceeded to eat his rice ball. Thinking that was the end of the conversation, I turned to look out the window.
"Where are you going?" he asked me.
"Hirooka," I answered, trying to sound disinterested.
"Oh..." he said, sounding disappointed. "Do you know Tokyo?"
"A little."
"Do you know Ginza?", a district of Tokyo.
"Yes."
"Ah. Do you know Shinjuku?", another district of Tokyo.
"Yes."
He then proceeded to rattle of the entire Tokyo and surrounding area to me, asking me each time if I knew that particular section. His questions didn't seem to be leading anywhere. I looked at my watch. I still had 10 minutes before arriving in Hirooka. I told him I didn't know Tokyo that well, having only been there twice. That seemed to satisfy him. I then became curious. Here was an old man in dirty clothes, unshaven and licking his fingers having finished his rice ball. How did he learn to speak English so well?
"Where did you learn to speak English?" I asked.
"Japan Station," he said.
Japan Station? What did that mean? I decided not to press him any further. I didn't really care.
He pulled another rice ball out from his bag. "Are you hungry?" he asked me. I was, but I didn't have the heart to take this man's last rice ball, so I said no, and watched him hungrily unwrap it and cram it into his mouth. That was when he began coughing.
"Wha..." cough cough "Whe..." cough cough cough "Help... me..."
Help me???? What did he want me to do? A looked around. No one else paid any attention to the old choking man. I didn't know what to do. I hadn't been medically trained in the case of Rice Ball Inhalation. I got worried. What if this guy dies right here in the train? Who do you think they're going to blame? "Oh sure, it's just a coincidence that he died while sitting next to a FOREIGNER!" the authorities would say, then toss me into a Japanese prison. That's all I need.
I asked him in Japanese if he was ok. He held up a hand, indicating he was just working it through. Finally he stopped choking and took a sip of tea. He seemed perfectly fine again. Luckily for me, the train just arrived at Hirooka. I took one last look at the Old Man of the Train as he waved good bye.
"See you," he said. It was as if I hadn't nearly let him die right in front of me. I waved back and got the hell off of that train.