Hmmm, nice.
Of all the trains I have ever had the pleasure to ride on Japanese trains have to be the worst.
In Wales the train system is pretty shoddy, but generally ride-able. The announcer normally has either a soft lilting valleys voice, or a reassuringly local Cardiff twang. Either way he's as apathetic to the whole train experience as you are, which gives the ride a very comradely feel.
On the London Underground the drivers are unequivocal and pretty much pissed off all the time. And who would blame them? One time I was catching the central line train home to Shepherd's Bush. The train pulled in and came to a strange juddering stop before rolling back a foot or two. Everyone got on, and after sitting on the tracks for five minutes the driver made an announcement on the PA system: "Sorry for the delay ladies and gents, this is due to an idiot who decided to try to throw himself in front of the train. Unfortunately he missed. We're going to have to stay here for a few minutes while we make some checks on the train. You can thank the joker in the third carriage wearing the denim jacket."
In Washington D.C. the drivers really just don't care. They're not annoyed; they're just 'there'. Except for one guy who occasionally drove the Red Line train that I got every morning. Imagine a cross between The Cat from Red Dwarf, Roger Moore, and Smooooth Mike Jazz, now hum "Take The A Train" to yourself. It was like being caressed all the way to work: "Gooood morning llllaydeez and gen'lmen. You are on, The Rrred Liiine, bound, for, Mmmetro Cennner and, Cooooolsville..." Now and then he'd riff depending on the time of day, "Llllaydeez and gen'lmen. Thisss, is Chinatownnnn. If you're goin' t' th' movies I'm afraid you're gonna be late. If you hurry, you might make - the eight peee em showwww...Yournextstop: Ffffunky Town"
It seems though that in Japan, Toyama at least, there are no such niceties. As each train approaches a deafening electronic "hwooooooooooo" will thrum through the station, and your body. When the train does arrive and sits on the platform for ten minutes the driver will squack at you from tiny speakers which have been strategically placed to pierce your soul from every angle. It will take him at least two minutes to convey the pertinent information about the train and where it’s going, so loudly that conversation is impossible. This piercing staccato will repeat every two minutes until you get to your destination. Robin plugs her ears with her fingers, I wince while looking out the window, and we both dream of Smoooth Mike Jazz.
In Wales the train system is pretty shoddy, but generally ride-able. The announcer normally has either a soft lilting valleys voice, or a reassuringly local Cardiff twang. Either way he's as apathetic to the whole train experience as you are, which gives the ride a very comradely feel.
On the London Underground the drivers are unequivocal and pretty much pissed off all the time. And who would blame them? One time I was catching the central line train home to Shepherd's Bush. The train pulled in and came to a strange juddering stop before rolling back a foot or two. Everyone got on, and after sitting on the tracks for five minutes the driver made an announcement on the PA system: "Sorry for the delay ladies and gents, this is due to an idiot who decided to try to throw himself in front of the train. Unfortunately he missed. We're going to have to stay here for a few minutes while we make some checks on the train. You can thank the joker in the third carriage wearing the denim jacket."
In Washington D.C. the drivers really just don't care. They're not annoyed; they're just 'there'. Except for one guy who occasionally drove the Red Line train that I got every morning. Imagine a cross between The Cat from Red Dwarf, Roger Moore, and Smooooth Mike Jazz, now hum "Take The A Train" to yourself. It was like being caressed all the way to work: "Gooood morning llllaydeez and gen'lmen. You are on, The Rrred Liiine, bound, for, Mmmetro Cennner and, Cooooolsville..." Now and then he'd riff depending on the time of day, "Llllaydeez and gen'lmen. Thisss, is Chinatownnnn. If you're goin' t' th' movies I'm afraid you're gonna be late. If you hurry, you might make - the eight peee em showwww...Yournextstop: Ffffunky Town"
It seems though that in Japan, Toyama at least, there are no such niceties. As each train approaches a deafening electronic "hwooooooooooo" will thrum through the station, and your body. When the train does arrive and sits on the platform for ten minutes the driver will squack at you from tiny speakers which have been strategically placed to pierce your soul from every angle. It will take him at least two minutes to convey the pertinent information about the train and where it’s going, so loudly that conversation is impossible. This piercing staccato will repeat every two minutes until you get to your destination. Robin plugs her ears with her fingers, I wince while looking out the window, and we both dream of Smoooth Mike Jazz.
posted by Geoff at 12:19 AM
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