Bubblicious

Japan has a lot of idiosyncrasies that confound me, others that delight me, and still others that down right annoy me. The train is home to all three. When riding the train in Japan it's a crap shoot as to how it will make me feel. Will today be Stare at the Gaijin Day? Or will it be Somebody's got B.O. Day? Or will it be Drunk Guy Falling Asleep on Me Day? Or my favorite, No Seats So You Have to Stand for 45 Minutes Day.

Twice a week I have to work at a private school. This requires that I get up at 6AM. I usually don't start moving until 6:30AM, but I'm up. I bike to the train station (that's right folks, I have a bike now), and I catch the train to Nichidaimae, then walk for 30 minutes to school. Delightful. The small modicum of joy I can derive from riding the train happens at 8:07AM, the two days a week I board the Women's Only car on the Toyo Line to go to Nichidaimae.

Japan has set aside a Women's Only car on trains bound for Tokyo. This is only in the mornings before 9AM, and only on weekdays. This was done because there are many chikans who ride the train in the morning. (A chikan is a frotteur, a person who gets sexually aroused by rubbing his bait and tackle against unsuspecting women. Thank you Wikipedia). Because trains in Japan are generally packed in the early AM, they are prone to chikan at that time. In light of that, Japan has taken great care to insure the working woman isn't subjected to this kind of abuse. The railways have offered the ladies their own train car, free of men and their dirty ways. Only on the way to work mind you. If a lady stays out late, and let's be honest people if she stays out late she isn't a lady, she's screwed (literally and figuratively). It's a wonder why these safety cars aren't available on the packed last trains out of the city at night....

I digress.

So, I had never made an effort to ride the Women's Only car before, because I kind of thought that the idea was a bit prudish (stop laughing Matt). I mean, we kvetch about equality but we want a separate car? Come on. Not only that, but I thought it was probably filled with women the chikans didn't want to mess with anyway. You know, just a train car filled with scared ugly, old, dejected ladies.

Wrong.

One fateful morning I decided I would venture on to this car and see what all the fuss was about. The first thing that hit me was smell. It was the pretty smell of, well....women. A bit of vanilla mixed with bubblicious. I was hooked. The difference between the energy in the Women's Only car and every other car, was palpable. It was calm and devoid of the rat-race machismo-angst of the regular cars. It was as if Vivaldi was playing and crumpets were being served. I loved it. For the first time I felt free enough utilize my TT (train time) as I saw fit. I sat down and started to put on my make-up. I looked around to see if I would get disappointed stares, but was delighted to see others doing the same. I then opened my diet coffee and drank it with a smile as the women across from me nibbled on her diet energy bar.

I'd died and gone to train heaven.

I realized then that the women didn't migrate there to avoid the chikans, but to partake in the tranquility and awesomeness of being a girl. I hadn't quite realized the power of that exclusivity before that morning.

Women Rawk.