Homemakers' rush hour rant

Yesterday I was actually called a "metrosexual". All I was doing was discussing a chickpea salad recipe, discussing the advantages of a pressure cooker and commenting on the food shopping in this neighborhood...it's not like I was discussing the latest fall fashions or anything! :-)

This post is not about that though. It's about rush hour. Rush hour for the homemaker (in Japan, "homemakers" should be read: "housewives"). For better or worse, I often find myself in this position these days. Our schedules, our diet and the fact that Taka takes a bento to work everyday play a big role in this.

Rush hour for homemakers has a lot of parallels to what most people would think of when they hear someone mention rush hour and Tokyo in the same sentence. It's crowded, it's crazy and everyone's in a hurry to get somewhere. It happens in waves, there are lines to be waited in, shoving and rudeness, dirty looks, tongue clicking and shaking of heads all mixed together with the polite and the resigned.

For any one of a hundred reasons, I usually find myself shopping at this time. I guess the worst of homemakers' rush hour around here is something like 4-6. That's the time of the frenzied older housewives in that mad push to get what they need and hurry home to get that dinner ready. God forbid they not have that dinner ready exactly on time. It might reflect badly on them, so god help anyone that gets in their way to fulfill this urgent quest.

Parking at rush hour can be hell. I'm talking about bicycles. It seems the older a woman is, the more she feels that it's her right to just park that bike anywhere she pleases. Remember that we're still talking about people young enough to ride a bike to the store for shopping...and more than able to shove anyone in their way aside. These are the same women that literally run to the door of a train, knock people out of their way and rush to an empty seat in order to rest their tired, elderly, weary bones. If their bike can be close to the entrance but needs to block the door a little, so be it...forget the fact that it's nowhere near the designated parking area. Handicapped parking? Forget it! Apparently the definition of handicapped is anyone not actually playing professional sports or on the Olympic team.

There's a guy that works at one of the larger supermarkets in my area. He's past the usual retirement age and his main job is to keep the bicycle parking area orderly. He has completely given up long ago. He just tries to look busy these days. I'm sure hours of picking up and moving locked bikes is more than a little tiring for someone his age. It'd be tiring for me. That's not why he gave up though. I can't even count the number of times I've seen him being yelled at by some middle-aged housewife for moving her bike. A few months ago I watched him try to go proactive. That resulted in his being yelled at and belittled by women that hadn't even locked their bikes yet. His job is primarily during rush hour, but these days he does little more than pick up trash from the parking area (when it can get to it through the bikes).

The second wave of homemakers' rush hour would be the working women (who work but still need to get that dinner out in reasonable time...then there are dishes to wash, bentos to make, baths to get ready, etc.). While this wave can be just as frenzied, these people have a better grip on playing well with others and shopping at this time can be pretty busy but it's not usually too bad.

Just getting to the stores by bike during rush hour can be hell on earth. People these days seem to believe that paying even the slightest attention to your immeadiate surroundings when walking or riding a bike just isn't necessary...but that's a rant for another day. Right now I'm having a six-pack attack. It's time to head to the store...and since it's Friday I think I'll even ask them to super-size me.