Japanese ambulances are the automotive equivalent of a sloth having an existential crisis. These rolling medical disasters move so fucking slowly that elderly Japanese people with walking frames are overtaking them on the sidewalk, probably wondering if they should offer to give the paramedics a goddamn lift.
Watching a Japanese ambulance approach a red light is like witnessing some elaborate tea ceremony bullshit – except instead of graceful precision, it’s just painful fucking hesitation. They’ll sit there for a solid 10 seconds, presumably having a group meditation session about whether it’s socially acceptable to inconvenience the traffic. Meanwhile, in the UK, ambulances blast through red lights like they’re being chased by the fucking Terminator on crystal meth. Is it reckless? Absolutely. But at least the patient isn’t aging another goddamn decade during transport.
The real comedy gold happens once you’re actually inside one of these medical torture chambers. You’ll spend more time in that shitty ambulance than most people spend in actual hospital beds. The driver becomes a telemarketing champion, cold-calling every fucking hospital in a 50-kilometer radius: “Hello, do you have space for someone who’s bleeding out their ass? No? Okay, what about someone who’s just generally pissed off about life? Also fucking no? Right, I’ll try the next 47 hospitals on my goddamn list.”
By the time they find you a bed, you’ve either achieved enlightenment through suffering, died and been reincarnated twice, or discovered that your “life-threatening emergency” has somehow healed itself out of sheer fucking embarrassment.
Japan: where even medical emergencies come with a side of bureaucratic politeness and the urgency of a constipated turtle taking a shit.
