Densha Onna: "Celebrity Skin"

By Antoinette Sarpong

Have you ever felt someone staring at you?

Yeah, me too.

In fact, I've been eye glared at so aggressively here that the superhero-like periphery vision I use defensively back home, has surprisingly heightened in Japan. On one particularly sunny Saturday, as I rode the JR to meet a friend for lunch, my Spidey senses were tingling. In spite of hypnotic concrete in the window ahead and a melodic soundtrack in my headphones, curiosity got the best of me. So I turned to face my ocular adversary.

Turning to lock eyes with someone on the train usually produces one of two sure-fire reactions. They look away. Or they don't. Of course, the latter scenario can be unnerving when unsolicited, since culturally speaking, most human beings with a sense of propriety and at least one decent parental figure know it's not nice to stare. But then again, the train is a parallel universe when it comes to etiquette sometimes. Not to mention the fact that as a gaikokujin, I might as well be E.T. in blue jeans.

So I couldn't really blame the silver-haired man on the train that Saturday, who was now making his way over to my side of the train. After all, I sent him the invite. I had made direct eye contact with a gaijin groupie. Sitting directly beside me, my new friend offered me a warm smile, a "Harro!" and the usual line of questioning.

"Where are you from? What do you do?"

The answers to which - "Canada" and "English teacher" - seemed to delight my new fan. Though this instant admirer was never going to be difficult to impress, what with the smell of alcohol that became noticeable as soon as he sat down.

"Eeeeeh. It's berry good. My daughter lives in Bancouver..."

"Oh! That's great. [I'm from Toronto.] Vancouver is really nice."

I don't mind engaging in conversation with strangers, despite the occasional, instinctive "on-the-clock" feelings that kick in as an English teacher. I'll admit, I kind of equate living in Japan with being a celebrity: I'm afforded a nice lifestyle simply because I'm "special". I think of these little interactions, where I answer the same questions over and over and pose for pictures with local ladies who go gaga like paparazzi, as part of the press junket. It's the price of fame, if you will. Why should I be put off that someone finds me interesting? Or discourage someone from trying to make the foreign familiar?

As the train pulled into my station, I waved goodbye to my friend and left the train smiling. I checked my pockets... my ticket was long gone. But I wasn't worried. I knew I could use my "VIP pass" at the gate - the good old gaijin card.

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