what's that smell?

Much effort is made to keep the atmosphere inside of Japanese trains pleasant. There are signs everywhere indicating in script and easy-to-understand pictographs what one should not do. For example, a backpack should be taken off the back and carried in the hand or put on the overhead rack (lately I haven't seen many--any-- people using the overhead rack. Perhaps they're like me: terrified that if they put something up there, they'll forget it and never see it again!). Newspapers should be neatly folded into small rectangles as they are read, so as not to infringe on anyone's space. And it goes without saying that cell phones should be kept on vibrate mode ("manner mode" in Japanese) or better yet, turned off.
I have yet to see a sign forbidding diaper changing on trains. Perhaps only ignorant foreigners--or those masquerading as such--would dare to engage in such a pursuit.
That's exactly what I felt obligated to do recently as Koji and I were on the subway. I smelled a suspicious smell and panicked. You see, we were already late for an appointment. So getting off, changing the diaper and getting back on was not an option. But diaper rash starts quickly and ends painfully, so not changing the diaper was not an option either.
Well. I was in the very corner of the car, and across from me was an empty wheelchair space. The train wasn't crowded and no one was sitting near me. Even better, the subway happened to be one of those with a half wall at the end of the seat. So I grabbed Koji and his supplies from the stroller, laid him out on the seat, removed the offending nappy and replaced it with a fresh one and got him back into his stroller, all in the space of less than two stops. There was just one businessman sitting kitty-corner that may have wondered what I was doing, but other than that, I'm sure I was not seen.
Whether my crime was smelled or not is a different question, isn't it?!