japanese elevator doors can and will chop your hands off

In an effort to minimize the "oh you know what ELSE happens in Japan!?"'s that will be saturating the beginnings, middles, and ends of my conversations once back in my sweet sweet homeland and annoying the bejesus out of everyone, I will try to address some tiny quirks of this tiny quirk of a country before that time comes. Starting...NOW. Up next: elevatorville, population: YOU. And possibly your dog/jump rope/random appendage.

Japanese elevators are hardcore and the doors are NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT motion sensitive -- it took about nine NOT NOT NOT NOT NOTS going through my mind to remember that terrifying and probably occasionally bloody truth after all those times I was dashing to catch one and almost lost a limb trying to get in.

I witnessed a close call once as a non-Japanese friend of mine swung her purse out in an effort to stop the already-closing-doors from closing but the thing just snapped shut and greedily took it up eight stories. Upon returning to our floor, the once-erect handbag lay sadly crumpled and propped in the corner of the empty lift as if to say "what the CRAP did you do that for? I'll never properly accessorize again!"

See? This is what happens when you don't pay attention to the crazy elevator doors of death:


Please note the inside view of the elevator -- you could lose your DOG or your JUMP ROPE for crying out loud.

The picture is fuzzy because it's difficult to take a picture of something with a cellphone on a moving elevator. But what's funny about that particular warning is that it's on the door of a freight elevator that I use instead of the regular ones in my building to avoid the crowd. The only people that use that elevator are guys delivering tons of boxes with various goods inside and other people that work in the building. There's not been a lady with a dog nor a child with a jump rope anywhere NEAR that elevator, ever. Who jumps rope next to an elevator door anyway? If anything the warning sticker should show cardboard getting crushed or a uniformed cellphone shop girl being split in two.

There's also this weird elevator etiquette that happens on account of the doomsday doorage. As in other elevators, there are open and shut buttons to the right of the doors above the floor number buttons. If you get on the elevator and happen to be nearest said buttons, you are the automatic controller of the doors -- it's your job to make sure no one else needs to get on the elevator because, as you know, once them things is closing, man, that's it; plus they'll just stay open far too long if only a few people need to board. Likewise, when the riders are getting off the elevator, it's your job to be pressing the open button until all have departed, and those leaving give a little nod in your direction for your work.

Usually the system works fine -- unless, of course, I'm running late and desperately need to catch the elevator -- then the door controller is almost always going to be a J-hag (big hideous floppy hat, hunched over, evil, inexplicably oblivious to elevator door etiquette) -- then I have to choose between being late or having no right hand. Usually I'm just late. Usually.

Anyway, I'm going to a place called Beppu tomorrow. Apparently there are seven hells there! More on that later.