Can’t Touch This
I live in Tokyo and commute via those famously crazy crowded trains daily. There exists on them this kind of unspoken agreement that everyone works together to make this suck as little as possible. But that’s only when the trains are full. About two stops before mine, the train goes from sardine can to everyone on this train could lay on the seats and have room left over.
So, usually, I can sit down at this point. I’m also very obviously not a Japanese woman. But despite my appearance, I’m fluent in Japanese. One day, I sit down when the train empties out, ready to enjoy the 10 minutes of sitting that I get on my hour-long commute. I’m sitting with my legs crossed, as there are maybe ten people in the whole car and I’m not in anyone’s way.
All of a sudden, a hand reaches out and grabs my bare knee. I jolt straight out of my skin, rip out my headphones, and look up at the hand’s owner. It’s some skinny old Japanese dude, at least in his 60s. He points at my legs and, in slightly broken English, says: “You must not cross legs on the train!” I’m totally bewildered by this.
I start to tell him in Japanese that the train isn’t crowded right now, and that I’m not in anyone’s way. But he doesn’t like this answer. He starts to reach for my legs again. I scream as loud as I can, “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Thankfully, this was enough to get him to stop that, as another thing you don’t do on trains here is make a fuss.