Now the game is afoot! The rules that govern polite behavior in this nation of casehardened courtesy are now temporarily suspended en masse as the higher laws of commuting merge with anarchy. What count now are position, power, agility, speed, relentlessness, elbows, knees, hips, feet shoulders, boarding tools (umbrellas, canes, bags, rolled newspapers etc.) and impersonalness.

Age or infirmity mean little in this arena, and the old lady knows it. She's off and shoving like a bouncer the moment the train doors open, cane and bag plying the legs of laggards, fending off those who would gain--but the other line, into the back of the car, is moving faster! Two rank amateurs at the front of your line have cost precious seconds being polite; now someone carrying a cello case is blocking the aisle (mental note: keep an eye out for large musical instruments in future lines) and four housewives are debating where to sit, as if this were a social occasion!

The housewives are tossed to the nether regions as the cello comes unstuck with a violent jerk, nearly felling the old lady. The thought pleases you. She pauses to recover: a flaw in her style, to be taken advantage of with daring speed. No contest after all. You feint impersonally by her in a graceful double-gainer half-twist one-legged commuter leap--a single aisle seat just there--the last: get out of the way, for--an arm shoots by, resembling something made long ago of a hard, dark wood, plumps a bag of bricks down on the very seat and is followed at dazzling speed by the old lady, who has trumped you at the finish...

You stand all the way back to Kyoto, among the amateur commuters blasted by wind from the windows, fighting for balance on the 50-minute ride to Kyoto, the old lady beside you sleeping blissfully, bag of bricks in her lap. But you are not indignant. There is no ire, no umbrage. You go over it all again, analyzing your moves, reviewing the moves of the pros, finding out where you went wrong: not relentless enough--an elbow just then would've--could've been faster with the shoulder; have to learn that trick with the knee--cane countermove--shopping bag defense--practice at home tonight--all impersonal--thus you ramble your way back to Japan's ancient capital.

Though still just a novice, you have learned much today, and will do even better tomorrow. Sooner or later you'll get a seat; in time, you might even be up to a crack at the old lady. She wakes up now, end of the line; you stand back to watch her get off, study her technique as she forges hydraulically forward, toppling men twice her size. Relentless. Awesome.

And now for the bus.