Tales from the Subway Rider

So I went back home for a visit, wedding and Thanksgiving… only to find that the quintessential phrase that almost every Maritimer must know by heart that is meant to not to point out a difference but in reality is pointing out how ‘foreign or weird and strange’ something is. For instance, KP and I were at Java Moose and buying something warm at Java Moose... her some coffee thing, me a Chai. I whip out the ‘Matt & Nat’ wallet Andrea gave me for Christmas and Mr. Canadian Tuxedo pops up over my shoulder to give me ‘the nod’… then whips out his to compare. Ensuring his ‘Guess’ logo was on the upside so I could see it as he proceeds to say it was similar. Having to interject that my ‘Vegan Leather’ was made to look that way, ‘so is mine’ (his is distressed leather and doesn’t get that I mean mine is synthetic); I proceed to repeat that it’s Vegan Leather. Mr CT looks perplexed ‘Veee-tan leather?’… No Vee-Gan Leather….. ‘VEE-gan?’ with his head cocked to the side. At this point KP pops over my shoulder, Vegan Leather is JUST plastic… I agree, yes it is PVC, but eco friendly. The only response I get at this point beyond the blank stare is ‘oh, that’s some different’.

Hello world, the few, the faithful… the bored… Scott. I am back! From a super long hiatus that that was called Thesis Project and a few short contracts that had inconsistent subway riding. I am now back in action and taking the subway ever so faithfully 70 minutes daily round trip (sans stoppage, errands or other miscellaneous TTC drama). As I log back in to make this welcome back post to myself I find that I was actually used as a reference of sorts on another completely external blog! Yay me! Ehren from one little cog noted that  “Tales from the Subway Rider has a hilarious post on the different type of sleepers.” Thanks for that fellow blogger I am super nerdy that I posted about you posting about my post… yeah. The seat analysis that Ehren gives is so much more in-depth than I could imagine… but oh so accurate.

This isn’t actually about any recent rides; it’s more of a recognition of my failure as a blogger. I have paper and pen handy on rides and a wide open imagination. Here’s to finding some more hidden subway treasure!

The approval or appraisal of what I’ve purchased is something I have recently come to notice. Now this is something that most times I pay no mind and space out for my subway journey however far. Yesterday morning I went to pick up feline supplies (READ: litter and food) for my furry fiends. The lady directly across from me appraised my litter choice and gave a knowing nod. She was in her “out for a visit” Saturday, complete with sun hat, pie and flowers.

The woman to her right (my left) looked at my purchase, and instead of assessing it, she opened her purse and took out her electronic pocket translator (they all look the same so yes I know that is what it was) and after a moment of quizzical perusal she confidently closed her translator put it back in her purse, and gave me the knowing nod.

Now the gentleman to her right (my very left) saw something in my purchase that didn’t quite settle well with him. In his mind my purchase was something to scowl at, something to show distain for. Perhaps he’s lost a cat recently, or never liked them at all. Maybe one badly injured him as a child and he never got over it. Or maybe just maybe his sour expression was from the orange he was eating and not my purchase… how dare I be so self centred that I think the scowl was solely for my benefit.

The Nod is usually something that shows approval or at the very least understanding. I get the nod for purchases, lapel pin choice, and sometimes book of the moment. I however don’t often get The Nod for my choice of subway companion… aka the Dork. For some reason his very presence ticks off the especially matronly type of subway riders. I have gotten it for listening to music, reading, ranting, smiling, frowning… sleeping… and dancing… don’t ask.

Needless to say The Nod is as ever-present as the sleepers on the train. Just look around, it usually takes the person in the sunglasses to give you the nod because they don’t think you are aware of them looking at you, but The Nod gives it away every time.

In this on going saga of my subway tales, I had been imparting my trials on a new friend (she’s me but a few minor differences…) and having peaked her interest and trusted she’d go home knowing that my tales are true however absurd and far out there… they are. Our discussions as of late have led down the path of religious philosophy (we’re going up the same hill just a different path…) So I am imparting my info that I have gathered over the years from attending functions at various denominational gatherings, readings and documentaries. Enter the presumably white middle upper class white balding white man equipped with palm pilot and eavesdropping skills that would not fool a blind man let alone my nosey *observant* self. Friend and I are discussing, Mormons, Seventh Day Adventists and the like; these off shoots of Christianity that have ‘companion books’. As well as mentioning that I have attended Baptist, Jehovah Witness and the Adventists services or bible study groups. Mr. Palmpilot deigns to insert himself at this point, after becoming painfully obvious that he wants to interject at just the right moment to save one or both of us from ourselves.

So you’re a seeker? No sir I actually just have questions I want answered… so that’s a seeker, you go elsewhere… No sir I have questions and I learn by doing so I find out what I want to know and go back to my own church… *I didn’t want him confusing me with religion shoppers* yes that is what a seeker is, they want dialog and communication and go forth and seek answers, it’s good actually, helpful for peace.

Well thank you sir…you know that people misunderstand each other without dialog right? They misunderstand what the teachings say and they read about swords and fire and take that literally and do God’s will when they don’t understand… I have a website its meditation walk dot com

Okay sir I can remember that thank you… you know like the Buddha meditated then took a walk, and Jesus meditated and took a walk…Yes sir I get it. It has links to various sites, like junk food addicts, for people who are addicted to things like gum (looks at Friend) did you know in the Koran/Qu’ran it actually speaks against consuming things that are not from the garden, meaning processed and refined food. You’re Muslim right? (She’s wearing the hijab so it’s like thank you captain obvious) And what about you? (At me in my hair all out and wild a la disheveled hippie) Friend~ Yes I am Muslim and she’s a Catholic~

Oh I am a catholic too… (Rounding on Friend again, who’s been his target all along me thinks) so to be a Muslim you are a slave of God, I bet you didn’t know that? (excuse me mr palmpilot… you’re asking a Muslim woman in a hijab if she knew what it means to be a muslim… now without any overt credentials, I have a feeling you’re not the man to be asking such questions)

He also proceeds to tell her more about her Holy book and its teachings on refined foods. I pipe up “But the book of Leviticus says we shouldn’t wear blended fibers either what of that”

Well the laws state not to eat pork and this came out of the hot desert so that was to prevent illness with bugs and such in the meat …yes sir I am well aware of the logical reasoning behind the food restricting clauses …well an Eskimo (his word not mine) in the artic *has to* eat meat because that’s all there is! (He never answered my questions… if you go to his site you find out why… I’ll continue this later)

He leans around Friend and accosts the lovely quiet woman beside me isn’t that right sister? (Please note that I am pretty sure this woman was in no way his sister, she’s a short, rounded, black, cheery lady, clearly his elder and as we find out after he leaves the train; a Muslim woman as well as Friend)

Thank all that is Holy, Merciful and Just his stop comes at this moment… and to leave in his blaze of wacky evangelical shtick filled glory about processed sugars he “quotes” the sermon from the mountain at Friend whilst exiting the subway backwards shopping bags in hand which are joined together with a leather belt with the whole of our end of the subway car captivated by this loony. *Doors Close*

“How do they find me? I mean what is it that brings them to me? Do you see this Friend… do you believe me?!”

Friend: you make me feel better, for once I am not the one fielding questions

Cute little old lady beside me: well dear do you study religion?, no then what do you do?

Me: I study immigration, and sociology, so studying people is probably why this happens to me so often.

Clearly they are sent your way for a reason, yes ma’am I learn from them as they come, I have long since accepted that I will be approached by these people in many ways (singing, preaching, flirting etc.) and I remember them in their own ways.

No dear, these people are clearly being sent to you for a reason, and you need to find out this reason and start helping them. They are drawn to you for something and it’s your duty to fulfill this need

You know I never thought about it that way. Thank you.

~it’s now my stop and I leave, promising that Friend now has stories to tell her mother, who has recently been captivated with my life history~

Now for Meditation Walk Dot Com

It’s something you need to see for yourself, there actually is a link about refined foods, and war addicts and even a quasi 12 step program through to a guide to how “Your De-Schooling Starts Here” I can’t write on it too much because it will overlap on the Dork’s new site if he gets to creating it.

Time is six in the evening. Bus is not too crowded; I have successfully stopped a little girl’s tears with spare candy… I think I am awesome. Bus stops to get more people, we’re halfway to the station. Enter Walter; he’s head to toe in red complete with umbrella. He’s confused, not sure how to get from here (downtown Toronto… approximately) to Mississauga. Walter isn’t observing common courtesy with the bus driver’s personal space… Walter is clearly inebriated.  He sits down after a blood oath from the driver that he’ll be notified of what stop to get out at. Fast forward to the intersection by the station, flashing lights, and police directed traffic… this isn’t good. Standing up to be nosy only results in seeing yellow police tape by a streetcar/bus. Disembarking and walking the remaining hundred meters isn’t so big a deal. Walter is now confused, thought he was going straight into the station. I claim Walter, follow me, I’ll take you to the westbound train… don’t forget your transfer. Mr. Policeman directs traffic around the scene… which doesn’t look like much of anything. Can we still enter the station? ‘Yes ma’am you can still enter the station.

Walter: I’m with her; we’re high school friends… (Walter was going to junior prom before I could write in cursive script)

Ticket boot, we just got off the bus, is his transfer okay? ‘yes please go through’…

Walter: That was awesome, like you totally got us through, you like worked them and knew how to do it man, that was like awesome, and you totally helped me, you’re amazing, how come you’re helping me like this, my own friends haven’t helped me like this… why is that

Well Walter, sometimes you just gotta help people out. I have no reason not to help you and nothing to win or lose.

Wow that was so awesome you gotta write that down or somethin’…

We proceed to the spot where I know he needs to get off which is conveinetly the same place I need to be. He’s going two stops past me. We get on the train and I sit with him so as to save the other patrons from the drunken soccer fan (his story has emerged over this time period, he’s in construction, and has a two way radio phone… and hates the colour red.)

You know my boss/friend like was totally a dick tonight I just said to hell with him and had a few drinks, you drink? Can I take you to lunch cause I totally owe you, like not really owe you but I want to you know, take you for a drink or like dinner or something… you didn’t have to help me but you were right there. It was Awesom you like…(see above regarding police and crowd maneuvering)

Well Walter my boyfriend wouldn’t like me dating other people so how about you pay this forward and help out someone next time they are lost in Mississauga?

Oh you’re like one of those people, but how can I pay you back like I want to  (drink lunch, dinner, see you… etc…) let me give you my number…

So this game goes on for far too long, I take the number write it on a box of food I have in my bag… shuts him up… I proceed to get dirty looks from this little old lady who isn’t nearly as amused as I am… Nor are the emo-grung-punk… dread-baring… trio to my left… they sit in solemn teen angsty silence…  Walter continues to expound on my greatness and laments my marital status… attempts to persuade me to see him for lunch and my “significant fellow” need not know, because he doesn’t want to “damage” our relationship… so I best call from my cell phone. Swears to me that if I don’t call him and we ever meet again he won’t talk to me (if only…)

I get out after air kissing his cheeks too many times to guess he’s had beer and some rye to drink tonight… not to mention his amount of silver ‘bling’ screams that he’s showing that he’s almost able to afford real bling soon…And I am off the train, swearing a blood oath on some blasphemous version of god that I will call him… ‘real soon’

I know I ask for it sometimes and if I didn’t, I would be far less amused. I mean he didn’t serenade me with makeshift country songs, nor did he come out of a Blaxploitation film but he could really really give Ali G a run for his money.

So I attracted a freaky stranger again… it will be the stuff of legends I am sure. Sitting on the subway on the way home with the Dork eating our granola bar (to help with the post bookstore bonanza blood crash) and getting stared at by Miss Prissy and her over compensating boyfriend… “No I totally have time to change I swear… but I don’t think I can cook” … “no I can do the cooking dear, how does primavera sound?”…. WHIPPED… that’s how it sounds, also, a bit like castration but I digress. Anyway as I sit there watching Mr. Silent Cookie Eater (Mr. SCE was a mildly overweight man with and ear warmer band halfway down his face at the brow ridge in a too small coat) the train stops go by and the URBAN COWBOY comes close to our door and holds the centre pole (to counterbalance his inebriated state) leans in real close in his tall hat and leather-ish duster…. doo rag hidden as were the snowmobile boots…. ‘do you know any cowboy songs…’ ummm no sir I only know ‘country songs’ not any specific cowboy songs…. ‘what about **aubry(I couldn’t understand)?’ No sir I don’t….. *sings* I got sppppuuuurrrrssss yes folks I was serenaded on the subway… ‘sir I do think I know that one thank you’ ‘can’t wear my spurs on these boots though… too much snow’ exit Urban Cowboy

Back to Mr. SCE. He has witnessed all of this (as has the Dork but he doesn’t matter…)

Mr. SCE decided to think this was funny BUT refused to let me see him laugh, so he chuckled but fell silent and went back to his cookies for a few more stops. Then to our amazement he takes out a bill fold (mind you only filled with less than half a dozen Lauriers— fivers to you non Canadians.) among this was pills and an envelope, he delicately unfolds it all, and carefully (methodically) piles them into his hand after he sorted everything on the seat in front of him…

We get out at our stop, and look at each other and our only questions are How and Why are these people attracted to us?

So I am dashing into a Mac’s today to grab my infamous lunch (for which I am routinely scolded by my boss/mentor Carmen) as I am dashing in there is a gentleman standing outside the door asking for change (as I hadn’t plugged in the above mentioned tunes yet) I told him I was fresh out of cash in general… he replies, ‘why don’t you get some while you are in there’… It’s freezing and I did need cash for the latter part of my day and there was an ATM inside so I got cash, bought my ‘food’ and gave the guy all the loose change which was like 1.00-2.00 and he says not thank you or have a nice day… but… “I kinda need four dollars, do you think you can help me out…” what? when… huh?

I am just amazed… it brings me back to my teens and leaving church one Sunday (yes I used to go ALL the time…) My aunt was with my and a man was squatting outside the church in my hometown and we walk past him as he’s asking for change… since he’s there all the time; we know is style… but this time he finally dropped that straw that my aunt couldn’t handle…. as we pass we hear “damn catholics can’t spare a protestant a dime“… let me tell you this, finer words were never flung before or since from her mouth… and all completely respectable since we were on holy ground….

Those who chat you up or play music or draw… for me they are providing a service… entertainment… its small but still they aren’t just asking for money. I grew up on the dirt side of poor and I know what it’s like to be hungry… but I also know that I refused to be a burden.. I had to earn my help. So for me to say I can’t understand the audacity of some people… I feel I am safe to say that without too much guff from the high and mighty folks in the googleworld. That is not to say that I am hungry now, I am not. I am on student funding and its all about the budget but I am much better off than my preteen self. I still identify with that socioeconomic class, and I probably will for quite some time. Childhood stuff just stays with you, it’s who you are and why. So I have to take into consideration everytime I make outlandish comments about prissy people that I am who I am, and they are people too… just with too many handbags, heels and credit cards that have no limits. Its fun to see how the other half lives, that’s why Richmond Street is so much fun, you can play 905 Bingo… there is a certain type of people who visit from the 905 area code to this one stretch of clubs…

The socioeconomic stratification in this city is so apparent it’s sick. There are smelly sleepers on the subway and near naked nightclubbers on Richmond… shock and awe.

So as much as I said I wanted to observe… I find myself falling out of touch because I now have a working MP3 player. This means I can now just plug in and tune out. Suffice to say I am now “that girl” on the subway. You know the type. Loud music blasting out of the little head phones, first you aren’t sure if you hear something at all… then you look without being obvious to see who it is… then you realize they are beside you but that you want to know the tune… then you know the tune and it’s stuck in your head so then… you have it there all day and end up cursing “that girl” on the subway. And it’s not just me, these people are everywhere. I hear them all over. Sometimes you have to snicker at the music choice. Once I swear I heard classical coming from a baggy-pants-sideways-cap-thuggish looking type. And I have heard some pretty vulgar music coming from some graying heads…

My main thoughts are centred on the idea that all this life is passing me by and it has is own soundtrack. I have listened to Michael Jackson’s Thriller in the morning commute… and let me tell you its pretty funny. Sometimes I feel like I am a musical and wished I knew proper dance steps so I could totally just break into song and dance on my walk to school. I am sure that would get me far more looks than my current subdued lip-syncing is getting (which is comical on its own).

I tell my students they should spend at least five minutes a day people watching, and they are sure to come up with something pretty fun. I have great stories; they have had some good ones thus far as well. My posts from this point on may centre on the theme that though I see it, I hear it as well…. Musically speaking:)

I have an alternate site to this one where I will be putting more than just people observations… I may combine them again I don’t know, for now I want to keep them separate…I will check the stats… I will be found at www.maritimegypsy.com if you feel the need to link to me, or find out what I am currently complaining about.

It’s amazing how much one can over hear when you’re just sitting there looking like any other disinterested party. In fact you can hear quite a lot and often more than you actually want to know. Like about how some guy’s ex-girl is nothing but a tramp and anyone and their dog should have seen it… and how there are approximately 5,000 pages of legal documents required to be filled out in a separation/divorce/second marriage…. not to mention what kind of crepes you can find on Yonge Street north of Wellesley. And in honour of New Year…”I don’t want to go this early, once I start drinking I won’t want to shop!”.  All of this is well and good, you get coughed on and laughed at and jostled by just being here and privy to the inner most workings of the ordinary city dweller. Now I believe I actually have a ‘freak pheromone’ which not only means that all of freak-kind will flock to me but I some how am putting off some scent/vibe that I do indeed want to chat endlessly.

This ceaseless chatting is sometimes just awkward but on occasion (such as the day before I flew home for Christmas holidays) I got life advice. I love life advice from strangers it ranges from amusing to astounding. Like I shouldn’t tell people I have traveled so much even when they ask because it makes me sound vain, and here I always thought it was a good ice breaker. Other life advice was implied more than dispensed ‘give up your seat and you’ll be blessed’ this happens a lot… so for those of you down on your luck, try some random acts of kindness and see it return to you. I have been told that I have wonderful hair, I should model, and as previously posted… been offered many a wonderful evening with fine upstanding gentlemen. The best of the advice came about 12 days ago, a little old man who sat beside me and overheard another gentleman’s attempt to hit on me by complimenting my rings (smooth move to see if they were engagement rings though). This little old man asked me what I did; I replied I am a graduate student studying immigration with the hopes of a PhD. I was told one of two things. I can either A.) work for the government and be in like Flynn or B.) Teach. Either way I was told I will have good career options. And as for the Missus and his intended career path this too was given the sanction by this lovely old man, for film is the place to be.

It’s not all fun and sweetness when you’re dealing with random people. There was the incident with the lady asking for change and when she was given change she dropped to her knees and thanked the lord for the charity that was shown to her, one man became enraged that she dropped to her knees at all, since those giving her change were not god… and to him only god deserves to be knelt before and not other, to him it was blasphemy. She made her way off the train and he remained behind and seethed with anger and muttered under his breath about how horrible it was, I turned and asked him what did it matter if she showed her gratitude in that way, she was no longer present to offend him, he maintained that it was an insult to the lord…. apparently he didn’t read the bible that said ‘that which you do to the least of my brothers you do unto me’.