Tokyo Bloopers

I haven't really shared enough of the silly, silly things that we've done since we came here. I'm talking about foreigner bloopers - mistakes we've made because we can't or aren't patient enough to understand things. Well here is one to get us started, and I'm sure there will be plenty more.

Like the time when two ladies from Australia stopped us in the subway and asked us how to buy a ticket. They were a sweet old pair of retired teachers, and sisters. We were so excited about our role as helpful local experts that we walked them over to the ticket machine and suggested they could buy two each - one for the trip across town, and one for the way back, since we wouldn't be there to help again.

Hah! People who are familiar with the Tokyo metro may already be laughing at this time. What they know, and what we didn't know although we pretended to know it and freely mis-informed others as well, is this: the single-ride ticket is not a free pass to go a certain number of stops. It is a ticket from station x to station y, and these are printed right there on the ticket.

We discovered this when we foolishly tried taking our own advice. I bought two tickets on the way into the metro and so did my husband. On the way back we breezed past the ticket machine with our "return" tickets and stuck them into the automatic gate on the way to the platform. The gates quickly shut in my expertly astonished face, as red lights started flashing and a siren went off. At this time I looked, really looked, at my ticket (which had been spewed back out at me by the machine, apparently in disgust). Sure enough, the ticket plainly stated that it was valid for one ride from the station where I bought it to the station where I was standing at that moment. Very helpful in case I wanted to jog across town and ride the metro back. At the time, not helpful at all.

The flashing lights and the siren may seem appalling but I'm quite used to it by now, having set them off many times before and since, and not just in the metro (the bathrooms have their own lights and their own sirens). More shameful to me was the thought that this same thing was happening, or was going to happen soon, somewhere far across town, to those two old ladies who had clung to my pale face and native accent like a life raft, only to find it leaks.

Well the old ladies were no doubt stopped by the metro gates, as well, and then by the metro guard who is always nearby, and then let through anyway since the guard is usually polite and has dealt with lost foreigners before.

Personally I learned that not "helping" people anymore is really the kindest favor I can do for them.