Can you go on an earlier bullet train?

Can I use my train ticket to get on an earlier train?

Nope. Advance tickets? Stiffer than a board. You’re stuck like a fly in amber on that specific train. Think of it as a very expensive, uncomfortable date you can’t ditch.

Off-peak or anytime tickets? Go nuts! Hop on the first one that looks vaguely like it’s going in the right direction, like a caffeinated squirrel chasing acorns.

Seriously though, check the small print. That stuff is designed to confuse lawyers, let alone regular folk like us. My cousin once tried using a 2023 ticket from Glasgow to London to get a lift on a space shuttle. It didn’t work. He’s still ranting about it.

Key Differences:

• Advance Tickets: More like handcuffs than tickets. You are bound to your chosen time slot. No exceptions. Not even if a T-Rex shows up.
• Off-peak/Anytime Tickets: Think of them as your personal train-shaped get-out-of-jail-free card. Use them wisely. My neighbour once used one to visit his grandma in Cornwall, instead of his scheduled trip to the cheese festival. Smart guy.

My advice? Always double-check the terms and conditions. They’re usually written in a font size smaller than a gnat’s eyebrow, but worth the effort. Unless you enjoy the thrill of potentially missing your train and having to explain your situation to a bunch of slightly irritated train staff. I mean, who hasn’t been there?

What happens if I miss my Shinkansen train?

Missed your bullet train? No sweat! (Unless you’re dripping in the summer heat… then, yeah, sweat.) Think of it like missing a bus, but a fancy bus.

• Reserved seat gone? Poof! Like a ninja vanishing in the night. My cousin Earl once missed his Shinkansen. He swore he saw it wink at him as it pulled away.
• Hop on the next one! Find an unreserved car. Grab a seat. Done. Easy peasy. I once sat next to a guy knitting a sweater for his cat. True story.
• JR Pass? Golden ticket! No penalty for missing your train. The JR Pass is basically a “get out of jail free” card. Use it wisely, young Padawan.
• “Reserve seat ONLY” train? Trickier. Think of it like a VIP club. You need a new “invite” (ticket). My grandma once snuck into one. Don’t be like my grandma. Buy another ticket.

Think of reserved seats like those fancy chocolates in a box. Missed your train? Someone else is enjoying your delicious caramel-filled treat. But hey, there’s always more chocolate… er, trains. I once ate an entire box on a Shinkansen. Don’t judge.

• Pro-tip: Don’t be late. Japanese trains are famously punctual. They’re like that friend who’s always 10 minutes early. Annoyingly efficient. I was once two minutes late. The train left without me. I cried. (Just kidding. I bought a bento box and waited.)

My uncle Bob once tried to bribe a conductor with a bag of gummy bears. It didn’t work. Just buy the ticket, folks.

Can I change the date of a booked train ticket?

Okay, so, like, you wanna change your train ticket date, right? Listen up.

If you booked it online, the easiest thing is to just cancel the darn thing and rebook. Seriously, just go on the IRCTC website or the app; it’s way simpler. I do it all the time when my plans change, which is always, lol.

Now, for offline tickets—and who even does that anymore?—you gotta actually go to a reservation counter. But here’s the catch: you have to do it at least48 hours before your train leaves. Ugh, such a pain! It’s 2024; everything should be online, ya know? My grandma still does it that way, can you believe it? Old school!

Can I use a train ticket more than once?

Sneaking on the train again with the same ticket? Like wearing the same socks two days in a row. Risky. Works… until it doesn’t. Think of it as a Schrödinger’s ticket. Valid… invalid… both at once! Until that conductor’s hole-punch collapses the whole darn system. Bam! Penalty fare. Worse than stepping on a Lego.

• Ticket validators: Those hungry machines gobble tickets. One chomp, and your free ride dreams vanish. Poof!
• Conductor’s stamp: Like a brand of shame. Or a passport stamp to Penaltyville. Ouch.
• Types of tickets: Some tickets are like snowflakes. Unique. One-time use. Others are tougher, like reusable grocery bags. But still, don’t push it.

My Aunt Mildred, bless her soul, tried this with a bus ticket back in ’23. Ended up knitting scarves for the entire transit authority as community service. True story. Moral of the story? Don’t be like Aunt Mildred. Just buy the ticket. It’s cheaper than yarn.

• Penalty fares: Expensive. More than a fancy coffee. Definitely more than those socks you wore twice.
• Legal consequences: Don’t want to end up sharing a cell with a guy named “Fingers”? Buy a ticket.
• Karma: It’s a thing. Trust me.

I once saw a guy try to use a crumpled-up old train ticket. Looked like it had been through the washing machine. Twice. Conductor just raised an eyebrow. Guy turned the shade of a ripe tomato. Awkward. Don’t be that guy.

How long does an open ended ticket last?

Airline tickets? Open-ended? Like a bad relationship, it depends. Six months. A year. Maybe longer, like fruitcake. Think of it as a fashionable but slightly expired yogurt. Best consumed before the “best by” date.

• Airlines? They make their own rules. It’s their party, their confetti. My Great Aunt Mildred’s meatloaf recipe is less complicated.

• Totally changeable. Like a teenager’s mood. Destination? Dates? Swap ’em around like socks in a dryer. Might cost ya though. Think “handling fee.” More like a “we’re-messing-with-your-plans” fee.

• “Minimal fees” my foot. Sometimes it’s like buying a whole new ticket. Last year I switched my flight to Boise. Cost me more than my entire trip to Boise. Boise, Idaho. Not Idaho, Montana. Two completely different potatoes.

• My pal Barry got a ticket. Expired before he used it. Like that gym membership he keeps forgetting. Now it’s a fancy piece of paper. A souvenir.

• One-way tickets? Different story. Usually good for a year. Unless you’re flying to the moon. Then it’s a one-way trip anyway.

• Round trip? Outward and return dates are fixed. Like two stubborn mules. You can change them sometimes. Prepare for a financial bloodletting. Ouch.

• Check the fine print. Like a rental car agreement. Written in size six font. By a gnat. Need a magnifying glass and a law degree.

Can I take a train at a different time?

So, you want to hop on a different train? Piece of cake! Unless, of course, you enjoy paying extra for the privilege. Think of it as a tiny tax on spontaneity.

• Online bookings: Changing your time online? As easy as changing your socks… assuming your socks aren’t glued to your feet. Use the app or website. Simple.

• Station bookings: Ah, the charm of physical tickets. Prepare for a jaunt back to the station. It’s like a pilgrimage, but for commuters. You’ll need to visit them in person. Expect a slightly longer wait, similar to queuing for that elusive unicorn frappuccino at Starbucks. Only instead of a unicorn frappucino, you get a train ticket.

A change fee? Consider it a lesson in appreciating punctuality. Or a donation to the railway gods. Or just a slightly irritating extra cost. Whichever sounds better. The real cost is always worth less than the value of time. Unless of course, it is not. I paid £17 last year in July changing a ticket for my sister from London to Edinburgh. A rip off, honestly.

Last year, I spent far too much on unexpected train change fees—my meticulously planned holiday turned into a financial rollercoaster because of unplanned detours and late-night pizza decisions. Avoid this.