[whiteperil] Sean: Gunpowder and lead

[Email subscription to blog articles]

Posted by Sean:
Gunpowder and lead
http://whiteperil.com/posts/1180961570.shtml


   I gather it's a straight-guy fantasy here in Japan to find out what
   it's like to ride on one of the women-only commuter train cars, which
   were instituted a few years ago by rail companies looking to offer
   women protection from, among other things, rush-hour groping.
   Well, as of today, I can tell you, though the experience was wasted on
   me, naturally.
   I got on the train around 6:30 on the way to getting a haircut. I
   suppose that, when I used to live along the Toyoko Line, I knew that
   trains heading out of Shibuya had the women-only car in effect during
   evening rush hour, but I didn't think much about it. My commute was
   during off-hours, when anyone can ride any car. The floral-patterned
   pink decals designating which car is women-only are still there, but
   the rule isn't in effect during the afternoon. I wasn't used to having
   to pay attention, and I guess I just always figured that any man who
   inadvertently stepped onto the wrong car would be promptly informed by
   one of its occupants that he belonged elsewhere. Or maybe that the
   nearest station attendant would chase you off. (Yes, Japanese women
   are brought up not to make a fuss, and yes, I'm a foreigner; still,
   it's not uncommon to have someone crisply inform you when you're
   committing a serious transgression in a public space--say, smoking
   where it's not allowed, or what have you.)
   Instead, I rode through five express stops before I figured it out.
   I'd had a vague sense that there were several women around me wearing
   quite a bit of perfume, maybe. I didn't notice anyone looking askance
   at me. No furtive whispering. (You get that as a foreigner here, even
   if you're not doing anything to violate decorum.) I was mostly lost in
   my iPod anyway. Perhaps the passengers around me heard [1]Miranda
   Lambert leaking through my headphones and figured I was a fan of sassy
   women and unlikely to cause problems?
   Anyway, it's funny how the mind works. The moment I realized my
   mistake and began plotting to maneuver to the door at the next stop,
   the woman scent, which I hadn't really noticed until then, became
   overpowering. I had a stronger-than-usual urge to bury my face in Hugh
   Jackman's gym shorts. There didn't seem to be any harm done, but I
   toyed with the idea of apologizing to the woman in front of me. (Her
   rear was pushed against my fists, which were innocently clenched
   around my little Hermès bag. I doubt the pressure felt anything like a
   touch of the more untoward kind; still, I assume her whole intention
   in getting on that car had been to avoid worrying about what the guy
   next to her was doing with his hands.)
   Anyway, sorry, ladies. Trust me, it was no better for me than it was
   for you, and I'll be paying more attention in the future.

References

   1. http://www.amazon.com/Crazy-Ex-Girlfriend-Miranda-Lambert/dp/B000O3C51K