On the subway, just the usual fare. A quiet car full of people: reading, listening to music, staring into space trying not to look anyone directly in the eye – and though it’s routine for us to act this way on the subway, I thought of how strange it must seem to an outsider, to someone who doesn’t know that this is typical “subway behavior”.
That’s just what you do. You get on (hopefully with something to read or listen to or do, because you really don’t want to be that person who is reading the Times over your neighbor’s shoulder or gets caught staring at someone when you didn’t even know you were looking at them) – and, in essence, you ignore everyone else.
And it is a bit strange. It’s probably the only time that you’ll be in a space that confined with that many people who are not engaging with each other in any sort of way. Oh sure, there might be the occasional young man who gets up and gives his seat to the pregnant woman, or the lady who picks up the newspaper that has fallen off someone’s lap and gives it back to them… but on the whole, when the train stops moving and you no longer hear the engine, an uncomfortable silence takes over.
But I witnessed a rare occurrence when I was on my way to work the other day. There was a man, perhaps in his forty’s, who got on at one end of the subway car and started walking to the other end. No one took much notice of him, as we were all in our usual pay-no-mind-to-anyone-else state. When he got to a free seat on the other end, he no sooner sat down than jumped right back up and exclaimed “I didn’t even know what country you were in!” And all of a sudden, he and the woman sitting across from him (turns out, she was an old, traveling friend whom he hadn’t seen in years) were in a full embrace on the train and laughing and talking a mile a minute – and neither one was self-conscious about being the loudest people on that train or adhering to the unwritten rules of “polite subway greeting etiquette” – they were just so surprised at each other’s presence and so honestly caught up in the moment that their joy had no other recourse than to spread to many of the surrounding passengers.
I watched other people watching this couple of old friends… how their faces lit up with that same feeling of recognition, smiling to themselves, openly staring at them with a brazen desire to know their whole story. And it seemed apparent that we were all longing for that same kind of connection. Honest, open, unashamed. Even if just for a short moment during your morning subway ride.
Is it that New Yorkers just naturally start to avoid connection with others? In my home town, when you’re walking down the street and someone is walking the other way, there’s a nod or a quick hello when you pass. Is it just that there are so many people in New York that you’d exhaust yourself saying hello to every one of them, so instead we just don’t say anything at all? Or is it just that we’re shy and unsure of ourselves…
It seems to be a pleasant surprise when you see a friendly face in the drugstore and the clerk honestly wishes you a good day. Or when you take notice of a teenage boy helping an elderly person cross the street. Even when you’re on the subway and a few women strike up a conversation over the adorable baby one of them is carrying.
Is it more beautiful because it’s rare? Or is it just something that’s so recognizable and familiar and we’re all longing for it…
Perhaps New York is not the city of fast, angry people that it is perceived to be on the outside. Perhaps it is a city full of people who are just a bit overwhelmed and miss the simple act of human connection.
That’s just what you do. You get on (hopefully with something to read or listen to or do, because you really don’t want to be that person who is reading the Times over your neighbor’s shoulder or gets caught staring at someone when you didn’t even know you were looking at them) – and, in essence, you ignore everyone else.
And it is a bit strange. It’s probably the only time that you’ll be in a space that confined with that many people who are not engaging with each other in any sort of way. Oh sure, there might be the occasional young man who gets up and gives his seat to the pregnant woman, or the lady who picks up the newspaper that has fallen off someone’s lap and gives it back to them… but on the whole, when the train stops moving and you no longer hear the engine, an uncomfortable silence takes over.
But I witnessed a rare occurrence when I was on my way to work the other day. There was a man, perhaps in his forty’s, who got on at one end of the subway car and started walking to the other end. No one took much notice of him, as we were all in our usual pay-no-mind-to-anyone-else state. When he got to a free seat on the other end, he no sooner sat down than jumped right back up and exclaimed “I didn’t even know what country you were in!” And all of a sudden, he and the woman sitting across from him (turns out, she was an old, traveling friend whom he hadn’t seen in years) were in a full embrace on the train and laughing and talking a mile a minute – and neither one was self-conscious about being the loudest people on that train or adhering to the unwritten rules of “polite subway greeting etiquette” – they were just so surprised at each other’s presence and so honestly caught up in the moment that their joy had no other recourse than to spread to many of the surrounding passengers.
I watched other people watching this couple of old friends… how their faces lit up with that same feeling of recognition, smiling to themselves, openly staring at them with a brazen desire to know their whole story. And it seemed apparent that we were all longing for that same kind of connection. Honest, open, unashamed. Even if just for a short moment during your morning subway ride.
Is it that New Yorkers just naturally start to avoid connection with others? In my home town, when you’re walking down the street and someone is walking the other way, there’s a nod or a quick hello when you pass. Is it just that there are so many people in New York that you’d exhaust yourself saying hello to every one of them, so instead we just don’t say anything at all? Or is it just that we’re shy and unsure of ourselves…
It seems to be a pleasant surprise when you see a friendly face in the drugstore and the clerk honestly wishes you a good day. Or when you take notice of a teenage boy helping an elderly person cross the street. Even when you’re on the subway and a few women strike up a conversation over the adorable baby one of them is carrying.
Is it more beautiful because it’s rare? Or is it just something that’s so recognizable and familiar and we’re all longing for it…
Perhaps New York is not the city of fast, angry people that it is perceived to be on the outside. Perhaps it is a city full of people who are just a bit overwhelmed and miss the simple act of human connection.
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