I’ve seen my share of penises on public transport.
Posted at 4:00 p.m.
Undressed, I specify. Genders voluntarily exhibited by men seeking to produce I don’t really know what effect… I saw so many of them that I ended up applauding a guy who showed his dick in the bus repeating, jaded: “It’s very original. You are unique. »
Someone even ejaculated on my skirt when I was on the subway.
When I reported the incident to a policeman, he replied that the next time I felt danger approaching, I should not hesitate to change cars.
I guess he doesn’t know that unfortunately we don’t have a sixth sense detecting public ejaculators and that we would spend our lives changing places if we relied solely on our anxiety.
In short, you will understand that I am starting from afar, in terms of trust in public transport users.
So when I learn in an article by Catherine Handfield that, according to New Zealand researcher Jared Thomas, it is good to establish contact with the passengers you are sitting next to, my reflex is to say to myself: “Yes , no thanks. »
In this paper, Jared Thomas explains that we tend to look at our cell phone or listen to music to limit the discomfort inherent in sitting shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, in the subway or the bus. However, there is, in his opinion, a better solution: to greet the other or at least establish eye contact with him.
“I think we forget that public transport is a mode of social transport. […] But if we’re in the mood, we usually feel better after coming into contact with another passenger. »
I admit that this idea confronts me a lot. At the same time, I believe in science, so who am I to doubt it?
You see me coming: I decided to test the thing.
For the past 10 days, I have attempted to establish contact with my seat neighbors. I have become a greeting adventurer.
First observation: saying hello is counter-intuitive.
I flinched during my first two attempts. When I opened my mouth, no sound came out (luckily I wear the mask on public transport). The city is synonymous with anonymity. We don’t talk to each other in Montreal. I love it when passers-by say hello to me in the countryside. I even envy motorcyclists who wave at each other when they pass each other on the highway. However, I could not answer a city dweller who would greet me in the metro. I would probably take him for a freak.
I will certainly be taken for a madman.
The third time was the good one. As I sat down next to a young, blue-haired woman, I finally whispered a nervous “hello.” A long awkward silence followed. After what seemed like a sad eternity, she turned her head: “Scuse, I was in the moon! Hello. »
I laughed. The man in front of us too. He waved at me. I gave it back to him, then… Nothing. No awkwardness, no impromptu conversation that no one wanted. Maybe just a vague smile on three faces. Something like a possibility: does that happen?
When we got home, all the seats were taken. I remained standing, very close to a woman with whom I tried to create a visual link. She stared intently at her phone. I looked like a predator. Seeing that she was reading The Press, I was afraid to pass for a predator who was also trying to be recognized. I dropped.
Second observation: it is difficult to establish contact with public transport users because most of them are immersed in a virtual universe.
Mind you, it’s rather difficult to do it with people without cellphones…
The next day, I sat next to an older man. (Actually, I haven’t dared to greet any man of my generation, lest it sound flirtatious. I know it’s ridiculous and not all guys think in flirtation mode, but I have a blocking.) I slipped in a polite “hello” that wasn’t particularly conversational, yet the man frowned and looked away.
He chose to ignore me, and I often faced that reaction afterwards.
Third observation: you have to be comfortable with rejection. The experience can be brutal and reopen old childhood wounds.
On the other hand, each time I was rejected – unlike all those where I was the last chosen in dodgeball – someone smiled at me. I don’t know if it was out of pity or out of respect for my audacity, but another passenger always pointed out his presence. Then life went on.
Surprisingly, only one of my hellos sparked a discussion. My neighbor pointed out to me the drop in public transport traffic. We wondered where everyone had gone. “They moved to the countryside or to New Brunswick,” he said. It was brief and sweet.
Otherwise, the greetings simply followed one another. Really nothing fancy.
I would even say that I took a liking to it. The exercise allowed me to focus on the humans around me. To try to read their state of mind, their openness, their desire to be disturbed or not. The usual mass split into a multitude of faces and energies. The smiles almost began to overshadow the memories of bullying. Almost.
I never thought I would write this, but I recommend the approach advocated by Jared Thomas. After all, what are we playing at when we pretend that others don’t exist? And what does it cost, a benevolent look?
(But don’t forget to switch cars if you’re uncomfortable, huh.)