Poetic Justice.

Dusted off the Victoria Secret balconette booby sling,slathered on the men's Speedo stick,donned the compulsory black suit and sunglasses,fumigated myself with a last spray of Chanel and out the door to work it was. Saturday so no rush hour boot camp this morning.Resisted the temptation to burst into a ditty from The Sound of Music while twirling round a full 360 degrees,cringing briefcase following,to share my bliss.I sit down gently,taking into consideration the passengers sat on either side of my new bum bum parking space and gently whisper a 'Summimasen" (Excuse me/Sorry to disturb you) in true Japanese spirit.

As anyone who commutes on  regular basis,I've mastered the art of opening my bag,withdrawing the latest tome I am reading,zipping up bag and opening the book to the correct page,all without moving my elbows from the booby vicinity.Living in a city where it seems like the entire population of China  commute through on the same train every morning,you very quickly learn how to adapt and make it as comfortable as possible.If Darwin were still around,I am sure he would find it very informative studying foreigners' during Tokyo's rush hour.The evolution from the first experience of rush hour here... shock, horror,disbelief,catatonic trance .....to that plateau of acceptance where you find yourself falling asleep, snoring vociferously and dribbling on your neighbour's shoulder with the best of them......can be quite dazzling to behold.A fine modern example of human adaptation.

So there I am,book open,totally absorbed in my quest to find out if the butler did it or not when I suddenly become aware that the passenger to my right is making 'tut tut' noises.Turning to look,it is a woman.Probably in her forties who is brushing something off her arm and giving me the evil eye.I worriedly scan the floor and seating area for cockroaches.Nothing.Subtle sniff.Armpits fine and reporting for duty.I check my right arm.Nothing there.Go back to my reading and ignore her.Again,with much drama she lifts her left arm and starts wiping it,all the while looking at me like I am a regurgitated  rice ball she's been served at a restaurant. "Excuse,"I sweetly coo.Whopping smile across my face even though I feel like injecting wasabi (Japanese spicy horseradish dip.) up either of her nostrils for a few hours."Is there something wrong?" She turns her head to one side and mutters under her breath. "Foreigner" and shudders.Yeah,I think to myself,foreigners.Making a big show of putting her book back into her bag,wiping down her left arm again,she moves across the aisle to a vacant seat.Gives me a couple more looks and closes her eyes,nose occasionally wrinkling up.

With images of Velcro straps and a huge syringe of wasabi in my head,I put my head back down in chapter nine.Shinjuku station arrives.The train rocks as a river of people surge on,vying to the death for any seat.A businessman grabs the one so recently vacated next to me,beaming me a huge smile as he sits down.The obligatory 'Summimasen" slipping from his lips,even though he hasn't bothered me in the slightest.I smile back at him.He asks me where I am from.We chitchat for a minute then I nearly gag as the most foulest odour wafts across the aisle.Looking over,I see the woman again.Next to her is sat an obviously homeless man.Dreadlocks naturally formed due to his unfortunate lifestyle,skin black with grime,a trolley positioned in front of him with his bags on.He flashes her a stumpy grin.I nearly laugh as  I can see the woman is trying desperately not to notice.At one point her hand flutters to her mouth and the little devil inside of me, half hopes she is going to faint.She stands up and tries to escape.The train is moving.There are no free seats.She cannot pass through into the main part of the carriage,as the homeless man's trolley completely blocks the aisle.She is cornered,where carriage connects carriage but no adjoining door is there to save here.

My station arrives.I wave a cheery 'goodbye' to the businessman. and an even cheerier and much appreciated one to the homeless man.The woman tries to scramble to my seat but is beaten by another.As the train zooms off into the tunnel and onto another day,I see her standing in the doorway,trapped by the trolley on one side,the carriage wall on the other,her nose wrinkling in disgust.........Just like the Yamanote,lady....you can be sure,what goes around,comes around........