The ride into work today wasn't overly bad, but Mr. Foot-Kicker was standing next to me and he kicked my foot about twenty times on the way into town. The first five or six times I thought he was just accidentally acting like the big sub-human neanderthal bear he looked like, but after being kicked (and fairly hard, not the usual light accidental tap) about fifteen times, I had to consider the possibility that it was intentional.
The train finally reached my station, and as I got off (receiving a final parting kick from that low-life critter), I walked over to the next train and pondered what to do about it if the beast assaulted my foot again tomorrow. Visions of hitting the emergency door release and throwing him off the train at speed leaped to mind, but that's what bottled up frustration does to the imagination. Getting back on an even keel, I could only think of talking to him - something like this (in Japanese):
"Hi there. How are you today? Is there some reason that you have to haul off and kick me every 90 seconds? Would you mind stopping that please?"
If I'm lucky, the beast will have crawled back under a rock or gone back to its cage at the zoo, and I'll never have to see it again, but no - I see that bugger from time to time on the train, so it'll likely be (shudder-shudder) back.
Lyle (Hiroshi) Saxon