The lights go out in Tokyo

Back in the balmy summer heat of August 2006, I found myself driving to work when I noticed the traffic signals were no longer talking to me. In fact they weren't talking to anyone at the time as the power had been cut across a large portion of the city. The cause turned out to be a serious construction barge carrying a rather large crane along the Edogawa (river) had sliced though the main supply lines from the north of the country that were suspended high above the waters. And then the crane promptly sliced through the backup line approximately two meters further down stream from the main lines themselves. 

In a country that almost universally relies on traffic lights rather than roundabouts (I know of a sum total of one), entertaining the concept on crossing the road took on a whole new risk level. In fact in Japan, where you give way to the left at a crossing, the introduction will take a lot of time and would need to be exercised with extreme caution, as seen when a car pulled out in front of me on said circular on the basis he had right of way being on my left. Wombat.

And so the lights are out again today in over half a million homes. Second time in a decade. On this occasion due to an unhappy thirty five year power cable buried to the north of Tokyo. Earth shattering ground tremors aside, Tokyo is built to withstand massive shocks using multiple back-up facilities (except for a back up generator in Shinjuku powering the Yamanote Line, housed in the same building as the main generator which unfortunately caught fire and reduced both to smouldering ash). But that day in 2006 we all slowed down and inched out way to respective destinations. Despite 250,000 being affected, no one was reported to have been injured. There was no drama; people simply lit the way and just got on with the job.

The traffic of Tokyo

There are many ways of moving around the city of Tokyo. The reputation of gridlock and hours to travel from A to B may have been true but these days are limited to the days of the odd earthquake and those special 1st September mornings when everything is disrupted deliberately to remind the general populace of what the day of a major earthquake will actually be like. Without the death, fires, collapsed buildings and washed up fish in the street of course. 

In these modern days the roads are, more likely than not, to be pleasantly clear. And then the occasional odd, somewhat surreal, occurrence will, well, occur. Driving through central Tokyo recently I was somewhat surprised to look left whilst more than a little bored at a set of inevitable traffic lights and there, sitting next to me, was Super Mario. He looked, smiled, waved. And I was reminded of the early jet test pilots who would wear guerrilla masks so if any other plane saw them, no one would believe a word of it.

And so, some twenty years ago, I heard a story from a slightly older colleague, of local transport highly efficient over rough terrain and driven by an engine needing little more than the odd bucket of water every now and then. And opposite the New Otani Hotel in Akasaka was a set of railings, well embedded in the verge of the road, perfect for ensuring and solid anti-theft properties.  For he swore blind his boss used to come to work on a horse.

The Sorrow of Super Mario

When my son was born I would spend the early hours watching over him as my wife claimed some much needed, and well earned, sleep and entertain myself trying to solve the puzzles of a Nintendo 64. As my son grew we played these games together, father/son time as it were and slowly he developed the skills to beat me at every possible opportunity. The first time he completed the course on Mario Kart I can still remember the jumps for joy as he screamed "I did it! I did it!".

When he was six he came to me and said he wanted a Game Boy. As with any parent I showed hesitation but when I saw his friends on the school bus wified together and competing to score the winning goal, I realised it was the lone kid with the book who was the outsider. Games were no longer isolationist, now they were the social activity, bridging the gaps rather than building them. We did a deal, he learnt to read 'Green Eggs and Ham', and Santa was happy and brought him a brand new DS.

These days the DS is long gone but we still spend time beating each other's scores on Star Wars on the old '64. It remains a time we can spend together, a time I can remember and enjoy. Few Japanese companies have genuinely created something new, many simply improving on previous ideas, something Apple is very good at if we're being honest. But while I've been travelling Nintendo lost someone who was part of my son and I growing up. And Mario is sad about that.