This one is going to be super short, but this image has stuck with me until this morning.
Yesterday I had the pleasure of figuring out the train system here in Japan. I’ll keep it to a minimum. It was super easy. Commuter pass cards here make everything a breeze. You don’t have to buy tickets. You just load money and the gates do it for you.
Yesterday on my way back from language camp there was a young man waiting on the opposite platform. He was tall, lanky, and rocking a phone and headphones. His hair was cut close to his head and his clothing consisted of baggy jeans and a plain old t shirt. This was not one of those fashionable dudes with the perfect hair and clothing.
Whatever music was pumping through his head phones must have been stellar because despite the full group of waiting people he was rockin out hard core. It started in his arms and ran all the way into his shoulders. In no time his long legs joined the party all without making a sound.
It wasn’t fancy dancing. It was the sort of full body, pretend d.j. on a turn table, eyes closed sort of thing. Without a care to who might see him he worked his way around the small space on the concrete he was occupying.
So here’s to you train station dance master. May your tunes always be great and your feet be happy.