What I Learned In Tokyo

I have been thinking a lot lately about obedience and conformity.

When I was fifteen I had blue hair. Not for long though. In case you are unfamiliar with Tish and Snooky’s Manic Panic semi-permanent hair color and think that it may have something to do with MTV’s Jersey Shore, then I will fill you in and let you know that only the red based colors last beyond the first three washes. That being the case, after the fourth wash I had green hair. A week later I had green and brown hair. And what could be worse then green and brown hair? Another lesson learned and since then I have stuck with black, burgundy, blond, and purple hair; so much easier to maintain.

Everyone has their own path and for me the lampposts along the longest stretches of asphalt have been ripped jeans, jay-walking, black nail polish, and tardiness (despite the jay-walking!). So you can imagine that the terms of obedience and conformity go against the grain of all that I stand for.

However, that is not true for me today.

Last year upon arriving in Tokyo I was shocked to see everyone walking on the correct side of the sidewalk, even that first night in boisterous and drunken Roppongi! The next day I was even more disturbed by the complicated network of arrows and lines painted on the floors of the subway system and all the people following them within inches to their trains. Moments later my horror reached a crescendo as I came upon the short single-file lines of people waiting to enter the approaching trains. How orderly!

It made me uncomfortable.

Not knowing what to do I stood all alone, not in one of the lines of people, not along one of the painted paths to the other lines of still more people. When the train pulled into the station I stepped towards the edge of the platform, again alone in my action. When the doors opened and after a few passengers stepped off of the train I stepped onto the train as a woman in the front of the nearest line was stepping on. She paused to let me through the doors that would have surely accommodated both of us and then stepped onto the train after me. After her everyone else in her line stepped onto the train one person at a time. It was a bewilderingly calm and quiet procedure.

The ride itself was also silent. From my plastic and polyester cushioned seat I could see a sign with a picture of a man sitting with a newspaper opened up in front of him. In the picture it appeared that the open newspaper was encroaching upon the personal space of the passengers seated adjacent to the man. There was an X drawn over the picture and a message written in Japanese. I imagined that it said something like, “Read the newspaper? Oh no, not here!” I looked around me and sure enough, there were no newspapers being read.

As the days passed I grew accustomed to the order.

After a week I was completely enchanted by it.

Once I began to follow the rules I discovered a feeling of belonging that enriched my trip immeasurably. I took pride in lining up to get on the train. I paid greater attention to the people around me making sure not to get in anyone’s way. In doing so I really saw the people and connected to the scene I was in.

On my last day in Tokyo I waited in line for a shopping mall to open up in Shinjuku. There were four of us waiting outside the glass sliding doors and one man in a uniform standing just inside the glass sliding doors looking out at us. It was 9:59am. The man inside with the uniform on lifted his wrist to read his watch. He watched the second hand tick and watched it for the entire minute. At exactly 10:00am on the dot he calmly reached out in front of him and pressed the button next to the doors that opened them up. As the doors slid open he bowed to welcome us in. One by one we filed into the department store where all of the sales associates were lined up and bowing their welcome greetings as well. As we passed by them the sales associates returned to their individual registers and the shopping commenced. What great ceremony! How wonderful, I though.

Since getting back to New York I have tried to practice this kind of calm obedience and conformity. My new motto is: Being Busy Is An Illusion. If that is the case then I should have no problem letting everyone else get on the subway first, I'm in no rush. I try. And if I'm never busy then what's the difference if I let every person in the cross-walk go before I come through on my bike? I'm really trying.

On good days it works like Tokyo.