Travel bullets

As I was standing on the platform at Kyoto station, waiting for the Shinkansen to come, I could feel a sour lump in my throat. There is an annoying disadvantage in knowing oneself really well – you cannot outmaneuver your brain with some blunt expression like “It’s going to be OK”. Because you just know it’s not true.
The train approached the platform and the doors stopped exactly where the blue spots marked their intended positions. The bullet-like form reminded me of some powerful but quite monster, ready to take me to Tokyo in just 2 hours and 21 minutes. Sharp. The sour lump tried to slid down my throat and make a nice little nest in my stomach.
I usually handle trains pretty well. All trains except this one. I realized that during my previous, very first, long waited ride on the Shinkansen six days ago. It had turned into an endless struggle with a familiar, usually bus induced, nausea. It struck quickly and ruthlessly, leaving me breathless at Kyoto.
I had to enter the belly of this scary and yet beautiful monster again. I just hoped this time the monster will be more merciful. I took my tiny but comfortable seat and said good bye to the steady ground. Soon, in spite of my desperate attempts to hypnotize myself with some positive mantra, I felt my childhood friend, the nausea, sweeping through my head. I closed my eyes, feeling sorry for the lost Japanese landscape around me. I prayed to all Gods I could think of, not to let me embarrass myself in front of the Japanese working man on the train. After all I was a woman and I was white so I had to make a case that we, the female gaijins, could also behave in a civilized manner.
A nice lady with a drink cart passed beside me. Coffee was a mirage. Then a thought hit me like a bullet in the brain! Fear that I had left the hot-plate on, with my morning coffee upon it, burned my body while my thoughts were fighting for a proper solution. I rose slowly and almost crawled to the telephone in the corridor. I bought a card from the machine and called the dormitory. The janitor kindly checked my room and said no fire was visible.
I went back to my seat and suddenly realized the nausea had vanished. The bullet in the brain had defeated the bullet train. I looked outside the window and opened a pack of sushi, finally able to enjoy the passing view.
After all, when you are on a trip, it all comes down to how well you know yourself. And the bullets you have stashed in your pocket for unexpected situations.