Sardines

Contrary to the title of this post, it’s not about food, it’s about yesterday’s train ride. Every Sunday morning I take the train about 16 minutes to Shizuoka City for church. Frequently, the train is full with standing room only, but still fairly comfortable. Yesterday though, for an unknown reason, the train was PACKED (like sardines, if you will). I got on a few stops from Shizuoka and I barely squeezed into a car. At the next stop, even though it felt like we couldn't fit another person in, a mother ran up with her two little kids and literally pulled her children into the train car. Before the doors closed, 4 more people wriggled in, much to the discomfort of the rest of us. They pushed their way in, as I found myself almost in the middle of the train now, with nothing to hang on to, and 2 Brazilian men speaking loud Portuguese in my face. I’m not sure if it was their discomfort or just the humor of being squished so tightly but they got the giggles and then roared with laughter. I noticed 2 grandmothers behind me, neither of whom stood above 4`6”. I was afraid they’d be swallowed up in the crowd. With nothing to brace against, I planted my two feet solidly on the floor and swayed with the mob as the train weaved along the bay’s coast and through the long, dark tunnel that brought us to the other side of the mountains. At the next stop, unfortunately, no one got off the train, but 6 people wanted to get on. It was ridiculous. After they entered, my feet were pressed together and I could barely balance against the train’s movements. I felt a pressure on my left shoulder and saw a dark mass of hair resting on my back. Afraid someone had collapsed, I tried to move to stir the person, and was relieved to see a teenage girl’s tired and flushed face look up at me. “Please don’t pass out,” I thought, “We’re almost there.” As the train slowed down at the Shizuoka station, I lost the little balance I had and fell into the people behind me, stepping on the poor girl’s feet. “Gomen nasai” (I’m sorry!) I said, and she sympathetically replied, “Daijobu desu” (It’s all right) knowing that none of us could really help it. When the doors opened, it felt like a kids’ plastic swimming pool being emptied as the people rushed through a small opening to freedom like the heavy water from a pool. I watched as a man was pushed backward off the train because people so desperately wanted to get out of there. I exited, laughing to myself and thinking, “Oh my goodness! Get me some fresh air!”