The Metro Ride

I hate riding the metro by myself. The constant stop and go. The feeling that you’re picking up every single virus known to man (plus some) every time your hand touches the seat, the pole, anything. Being surrounded by people, yet still feeling lonely. There’s set of unspoken rules here that most everyone abides by: head down, eyes averted. People-watch if you must, but avoid eye contact at all costs. Forget how to smile. Your smile is no good here. Smiling invites conversation, which you’re not about to have. Just keep your eyes closed or fastened on your e-reader or cell phone. You’re all on the train together, but you’re not “in this together”. Or—that’s what it seems like, at least. Every now and then, something happens that helps to remind me that I’m surrounded by people, real living, breathing, heart-pumping, blood-rushing humans. A well-dressed, middle aged businessman stops a girl from falling over as the train stops, starts again, then lurches to a stop. A young woman offers her seat to a much older woman standing by the door. A man and woman defy the rules of Metro Ride Etiquette and strike up a conversation over a book in the man’s hand. We are people, people who crave words and interaction with other people—why do we allow ourselves so often to get tricked out of this fact?