January 3 - Passenger 52

On his way back to Tokyo after winter break, there was literally no one on his train car he didn't hate.
Not the dumbass kid in front of him with his loud ass video game.
Not his dumbass parents who were apparently the only people in Japan who didn't know you weren't supposed to let your kids play video games on trains with the sound turned up.
Not the phlegmatic cougher who only ever managed to get the phlegm halfway up his throat, so he could swallow it back down and then cough it back up again 30 seconds later.
Not the crying baby.
Not the flatuent bastard who was silently letting them go throughout the afternoon and probably feeling like nobody noticed.
Not the kid behind him kicking his seat like it was a fire he was trying to put out.
And definitely not the asshole sitting next to him with her iPod turned up loud enough for him to hear her shitty ass music.
Seriously, there were 51 other passengers on his nonreserved car and there wasn't one of them that he didn't hate.
After a couple of hours, he resigned himself to being on the worst train ride of his life, just gave up on it getting any better and it was a relief in a way, knowing that this was it. It couldn't possibly get any worse. He would suffer through it and then his next train trip would be better by comparison. A switch was flicked in his mind and he decided to wallow in it, all of it: the farts, the kicked seat, the video game, the crying baby, all of it. He would luxuriate in the misery. Yes, go ahead and cry. Go ahead and kick. Go ahead and fart. Really, I want you to.
And once he made that decision, things became marginally more acceptable, even pleasant in a way. His mood began lifting and he started fancying himself as the calm Buddha in the center of a raging shitstorm. The train ride still sucked, yes. But he embraced the suck.
At the next stop an older woman got on board and entered his car. There were no empty seats. As the train lurched out of the station, she fought to keep her balance and bumped around between the aisles and seats like a geriatric pinball.
The other 51 passengers pretended not to see her.
Such was his newfound beatific state that he got up from his seat and offered it to the woman. And for once in his Japanese life, there was no embarrassing back and forth No, I couldn't, No, I insist tug-o-war over who would get the seat. No. The woman's eyes lit up with pure, unalloyed gratitude and she hugged him.
The woman actually hugged him.
A hug from a stranger. That had never happened to him before in Japan, and it was well worth the price of having to remain standing for the rest of the trip. And actually--incredibly--the trip at that point took a turn for the better--for the sublime. The boy in front of him turned off his video game and started reading a book. The coughing man finally cleared the phlegm out of his throat and sat quietly. The baby went to sleep. Whoever it was who'd been farting stopped. The kid behind him stopped kicking, and the iPod battery of the woman sitting next to him ran out of juice.
Silence.
The man managed a smile and felt like he was floating.
The train pulled into Ueno Station and the woman got off, smiling and hugging him once again before she left.
He had done it. He had managed to have a pleasant trip after all.
As he nestled back into his seat, he felt pretty good about himself and the turn the day had taken. He looked out the window and saw the old woman walking past his window. He raised his hand to wave goodbye to her, but she didn't notice, focused as she was on stuffing wads of bills into her coat pocket. The man suddenly felt sick. Something was wrong.
Their eyes met as she waved his wallet at him triumphantly with one hand and flipped him off with the other.
He banged on the window impotently as the train left the station and the old woman made her way across the platform looking for her next mark.