Subway Quirks

On typical weekdays I take the Montréal métro (subway) to and from work. It's a short journey, about 7 minutes / 4 stops, but I try to make it as interesting for myself as possible. I must admit that there are two quirky games that have made their way into my daily routine.

1.) I'll admit it --- I stare, desperately trying to figure out what people are thinking. I ogle, I pretend not to look, then glance again. I usually find myself evaluating the oddest looking characters available. Deliberating about where my subject of choice has come from, and attempting to pin point the angst and troubles that I envision they are harboring. Possible traits that may qualify you as a target? An overly wrinkled forehead, a tattered pair of trousers, a heinous smell that one struggles to define. All of which send me on fatuous tangents trying to give reasoning to why things are they way they are. I do my best to imagine my subjects childhood, their family problems, or simply their last meal.

I figure that all this is reasonably normal, as any inquisitive mind would ponder from time to time. The most diabolic thing is that I tend to force myself to believe that my perceptions of these strangers are remotely accurate. I then spend a second or two snapping out of the moment - as to reassure myself that it was my extensive imagination at work.

2.) When I reach my morning destination, one of the major hubs in the downtown core, an electronic whistling sound chimes, and the subway doors slide open. I push through the small melee of impatient people trying to embark, and I slow my stride. 

At this moment everyone who is moving towards me has a look of panic, as they awkwardly gush towards the trains open portholes from the nearby stairwells. I chuckle to myself as I view grandmothers keep pace with drug dealers, and tots being dragged unwillingly by their baby sitters as they dash to the global goal - the subway. The imagery is just too epic, and the emotions too visible. Most give up several strides before the doors close and slump their shoulders in frustration.

But there is always what i call the "College Try Sprinter". The CTS is special, and there is always at least one per boarding. No matter how slim the window of opportunity appears, CTS' will relentlessly scamper at their top speed (as if he or she were running the 40 yard dash) towards the closing entrances. The great part about the CTS is that they are extreme. Side shuffling, on-comer juking, and brief case under the arm placements are commonly utilized maneuvers.  Small celebrations are infrequently seen aboard the train post success - the occasional fist pump or a teethy grin. But CTS' actions of disappointment are more rewarding for the onlooker - the punching of the trains exterior itself, flailing of limbs in dismay, or the less original uttering of curses in front of the general public.

Who knows how I will entertain myself when biking to work in the summer.