Commuting Awareness

Every weekday I spend about an hour and a half travelling to and from work. Most of the time it's a rather uneventful affair - walk to bus stop, take bus to subway station, transfer to streetcar, take streetcar to another subway station, take subway to final subway station, walk to work (or the reverse if I'm on my way home). I usually knit or crochet, some people read, and everyone carries on in the common purpose of getting wherever it is they're going. That's the norm.

There are some days, though, when things happen that for whatever reason break me out of my commuter coma. Sometimes those things make me laugh, and other times they make me want to hit people. Sometimes it's neither good, nor bad - it's just interesting. It seems that yesterday was meant to be a day for noticing things. Let me take you with me on my commute...

It began in the morning as I was standing in the little holding pen that's serving as a bus stop while my road is under construction. It was quite chilly out, so I thought it was rather odd that the car sitting at the red light right in front of me had two of its windows down. I then noticed that the driver was smoking, which explained it. No big deal - if she wanted to smoke in her car (she was alone), that was fine by me. I couldn't help but think, though, that it seemed a little silly to be driving around in winter with your windows down just so you can slowly poison yourself. But I digress...

The rest of the trip to work was uneventful - I got 2 or 3 rounds of my Jaywalker sock knit, which is a good showing for one trip. On my way home, I needed to pick up some mozzarella at the grocery store, which is located in the complex above the middle subway station. As I came outside to wait for the streetcar, there was a guy with a guitar standing at the street corner, playing Christmas carols. It took me a while to figure out what exactly he was playing, though, since his tempo was way off - sort of like this:

Sil - - ver - - beeeeeeeells - - - -

Siiiiiiil - - ver - - bellsIt'sChristmastimeinthecity - -

Ring - - aaaaaaaaa - - ling - - -

Hearthemringsoonitwillbe -

Chriiiiiiiiist - - masday

I had to laugh - this was either a guy who had had a bit too much to drink or who had read the music but never heard the songs before. Or maybe it was his artistic interpretation? Whatever the cause the effect was highly amusing.

Eventually the streetcar came, and I got on and sat in the front of the back section (if that makes sense). It was pretty quiet, except for this lady and her son sitting somewhere behind me having a conversation. It. Was. Hilarious. Their conversation consisted of Junior telling Mom about his day, and Mom spouting reams of advice. Comme ca:

Mom - So how did things go at your dad's yesterday?

Junior - Well, I broke his box of chocolates.

Mom - How did that happen?

Junior - I knocked it over and it broke open and everything fell out on the floor. So I hid it.

Mom - Don't you think you should tell your dad about it?

Junior - Why?

Mom - Well, a box of chocolates can be replaced, but when you decide to lie or hide things from people, that affects who you are and that's a lot harder to fix. And you know that your dad would respect you for telling him the truth about it and be a lot less disappointed than he would be if he found out you hid it from him. So how did things go at school today?

Junior - Whatshisname was picking on me again.

Mom - Isn't it only Whatshisname's second day at your school?

Junior - Yeah.

Mom - Well, I know if I were Whatshisname, I'd be feeling pretty nervous about being in a new school with a lot of people I didn't know, and maybe I'd want to be friends with people but I'd be too afraid that they didn't want to be friends with me, so I'd be mean to them first so they wouldn't have the chance to be mean to me. You should be friendly to Whatshisname, and I bet he'd stop picking on you and start being your friend.

This went on for the duration of the trip on the streetcar! Every time the kid mentioned anything, the mom had all this incredibly well-articulated, reasonable advice to deliver in this lovingly patronizing June Cleaver-esque voice. I felt like I was an extra in an after-school special. Freaking hilarious. This kid is going to grow up to be either the most well-adjusted person on the face of the planet, or a psycho with a vendetta against TV moms.

Then, as I was waiting in line for the bus that would take me on the last leg of my commute, I noticed an older man who didn't seem to be quite right. He was rather loud, and continually attempted to carry on conversations with anyone he made eye contact with. Now, my initial response in this kind of situation is always twofold. First, my heart hurts for this person who obviously is broken in some way. Second, I studiously avoid making contact, not because I'm uncaring, but because if I'm alone I don't want behave irresponsibly or in a way that puts my safety at risk. Yet I always feel guilty about it, and this time was no exception. I sat there and hoped that this guy had someone who cared about him.

Finally, on the walk home from the bus stop I go past a wall of windows that look into a brand new Italian restaurant. Being subject to the same whims of human nature as everyone else, I am always compelled to look in and see what's going on. And every night it's the same thing - one or two people sitting at a table, and that's it. But yesterday the cook saw me (the kitchen in this place is visible from the seating area - and the windows), caught my eye and grinned at my unashamed voyeurism. I grinned back and then I was past the restaurant, smiling the rest of the way home.