the stress of trains.

traveling on an uber crowded train in tokyo is eerie. its hot no matter what the temperature is outside, and no one talks. seriously. its creepishly silent. you see, its a vulgar disrespect to talk on cell phones, and it seems its equally so to talk amongst friends. i cannot count the times i have been glared at for laughing out loud or even just talking to whomever im with. its alarming for me--always. so, there you are, standing, smooshed, and hanging like a monkey, familiar with every creek of the train beneath your feet, and the steady breathing of the drunk men surrounding you. the book in your bag presses tightly into your armpit and the stress of keeping your footing and trying not to fall on others with the sway of the train flusters you in a way that makes little beads of sweat form on your very own brow. you begin to read the poster ads overhead because you become convinced that the air really is clearer pointed upward. and then, someone coughs. its strong enough that the air passes from their face mask, and flusters your hair. uncomfortable you stand, unable to remove the hair from your eyes, because your hands are occupied--one holding on for dear life, and the other trying to stay out of unmentionable places. really, its hard to avoid any of it. and its all in this silent movie of train life even in rush hour on a friday night. its a strange mystery, even after 2 years.