On the way back from Cirque de Soleil at Tokyo Disneyland, the train home was full of Mickey Mouse-clad toddlers and youngsters, still buzzing from the fun and magical day they had. The train rattled loudly from a bump on the tracks and I almost hit the back of my head on the window. Another rattle, and the ride smoothed over. The excitement in the train was disrupted by a disturbing wailing sound. At first, my friends who were all foreigners except for one, thought it was an animal or a baby, we weren’t sure. The wailing got louder and stronger and everyone including us tuned in, it was suddenly dead silent except for the wailing. A young girl screamed in despair. No one knew what was happening, until the train suddenly stopped and a family rushed out onto the platform as the doors opened and the situation became clear. A fairly large man in the center was wailing in pain, convulsing restlessly, his face a purple-gray with cold sweat surfacing on his face. His large family gathered around him on the floor of the platform, holding him up, with his young daughter who could be no older than 8 years old with her friends, crying helplessly. The eldest daughter desperately called for help as the adults of the family stayed with him.
No one moved. No one except for a young man who was helping them support him, trying to relax him as much as possible before real help arrived. The trains from both sides of the platform came to a dead halt. They weren’t moving in case the man became startled again from the sound of the train rushing by, potentially making things worse. My friends and I were waiting for immediate help but other than the train conductor making a call and blank faces on all of the passengers, nothing was happening. As the minutes, which felt like hours ticked by, we became restless and perturbed by the lack of reaction. Fifteen minutes passed by, still no help. We asked the eldest daughter who was calling out for something what we could do to help. She spoke in Japanese so our one Japanese friend stepped in to listen, but she uttered a word we all understood, she needed an AED – Automated External Defibrillator. The one in the station was missing! It was not the first time the troubled family had gone through this, and as we later found out, though the victim had health problems, it had never been so serious. He was having a heart attack, and they needed help fast. It was time to take action. We split up, with two of us staying back and staying in communication with the family, while the two others bolted up the stairs and out for help, hurdling over the ticket booth and outside to the next station in search of an AED.
Almost half an hour had passed and only then, we saw four paramedics come down to the platform in what seemed like a slow walk with little urgency. Was this too common or not serious enough? They took his legs and arms and counted “ichi, ni, san!” to get enough strength to place him on the stretcher and take him away. The eldest daughter, mother, grandmother and all the little ones trailed them, dismayed by the situation. The little girl was still sobbing; little red Minnie Mouse bows in her hair, this was no way to wrap up a day at ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’. We had alerted our friends of the paramedics’ arrival so they returned, catching their breath as we watched the situation finally come to a close – at least for us. Before we got back on the train, the eldest daughter rushed back to thank us with true gratefulness in her voice and eyes. It was strange that we were the only foreigners in the vicinity, yet also almost the only ones who made the effort to help. It was a shocking wake-up call, as it was questionable whether this would happen elsewhere. No one seemed to want to step outside the box and do something unfamiliar. That sense of community wasn’t there that night. Neither was the sense of urgency from the professionals. All we knew was we didn’t want someone’s father, husband and friend to pass away before our eyes, knowing we didn’t at least try our best to help.
