Metroface

The Montreal metro is full of surprises!

Actually, no. What was once a twice-daily adventure for me has now become a chore of necessity. The first few months of metro taking were a blissful time of people watching and imagination. I didn't mind staring at people--their unique flaws, their clothes, their expressions--and making up stories in my head to go with them. I never spoke to anyone or asked the desirable: "So, what's your story? (grin)". I just consumed every detail of their faces, their hands, their body shapes. Since there are so many different ethnicities in Montreal, I became aware of the fact that I am really different from everyone on the metro. And could it be? I am tall! ... Well, compared to other women in Montreal. On PEI I always felt sort of plain and average, but now, here, I was standing above everyone. I could see the tops of people's heads. In flats!

I made eye contact with everyone. Willingly. I tried to give knowing looks to other metro-takers when the driver would announce a delay. I would give my seat to the old and decrepit. I would read the paper over other people's shoulders. I would talk to small children and smile flirtatiously at babies. I would hold my books tightly against my chest if I felt a stranger's eyes taking too much liberty.

But after a couple of months I started to notice more than what people on the metro looked like and wore. I started to notice their expressions and how they were feeling. Aside from the small children and babies, the strangers on the metro all seem to have one thing in common: a vague look of malaise on their face. Whether they are staring out the window at the black blur of passing tunnel, or at nothing in particular, they almost never catch my eye. They know I am there, but they'd just rather not let me see into them.

But it's more than that. There is a certain "metro face" among the Montreal daytime metro-takers. It is a face of indifference. A half-dead, half-asleep look that says, "I'd rather be anywhere but here." It is a blank, bored face in a sea of others, and the fact that it is universal and common is what keeps metro-takers wearing it. I've come to the conclusion that most people who are early in their career of metro taking, are like me: they look forward to the adventure of seeing a variety of new and unusual people, up close. That's why babies are intrigued by my playfulness, and the metro in general; they are newcomers to the ride. Then, over time, the washed-out metro face of everyone else becomes contagious. People who have been taking the metro for a long time prefer to go unnoticed. They want to blend into the background. They don't want to be bothered, and they may even have a slight fear of strangers. So they start to copy the metro face look in an effort to lose their individuality among the crowd of like expressions.

When people like me start taking the metro, we are thirsty for all the new encounters with worldly Montrealers. But then, we start to realize, these people don't want me to know their story; they want to keep their story private. Could it be that I make them uncomfortable just by smiling at them or catching their eye?

So I have figured out the psychology behind the metro face. Now my only worry is that I too might start wearing it. I caught my reflection in the window today and I thought my neck looked so long it might snap. Then I looked at my expression and it was a happy one.

No, I don't think I will ever become a metroface. Even when I don't want to be there, I simply take my mind elsewhere, and that fantasy is what dictates my expression...