Train Commuting and Human Behavior
May 10, 2004
by Michael Walls

The social behavior of train commuters could probably fill an entire chapter in some sociology textbook somewhere. It’s a very curious subject.

Hundred of people, crammed together every morning and every evening on a train, yet no one talks to each other. I’m one of them. I see the same people everyday on my train, and ride in silence to and from work. The same faces, for over 3 years, yet, I don’t know anybody’s name, where they work, or what the do for a living. Well, I know where some of them work. They work in the same building as me. In fact, not only do I spend an hour on the train with these people, but I actually walk side-by-side, the half mile to my office building each morning. Yet, I still do not talk to them. Nor do they talk to me.

Which is fine. I’ve got enough friends. I’m not looking to make more friends. Plus, it’s not like we have anything in common beyond a commuter train, some sidewalk, and an office building. And it’s only an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening that I see these people. At work I’ve got an entire office full of co-workers that I’m forced to socialize with, due to the fact that I spend 8 of my 16 waking hours with. This is understandable. Although, I didn’t pick these people, we all have something in common and need to work together for the sake of the Firm. So, I have a social responsibility with these people.

But these train commuters – I don’t owe them anything. And they don’t owe me anything. So we ride in silence.

But something happened this weekend that all train commuters fear. Social interaction, outside the commute.

I took the wife and kids to the aquarium this weekend. An innocent family outing. While at the sting ray petting tank, I recognized the aquarium employee giving the lecture about sting rays and answering questions from little kids. At first, I couldn’t place him. I though he might work for my company. But then I realized he only works in my building and recognized him as the “fast walker” that shares my morning train commute and tries to outpace me during our walk to our building. I’ve never spoken to him, and quite frankly, didn’t feel like starting now.

I casually tried to navigate the kids to the next exhibit, but they are having too much fun sticking their arms, elbow deep, into the tank, trying to touch a sting ray. My wife picks up on my antsyness and I whisper the dilemma to her. Of course, before I can say “don’t look” she does a severe neck crane to look at the guy, who in return looks our way. I look the other way and try to keep my youngest son from diving head first into the tank. Mr. Fast Walker takes the opportunity to say, “If you keep your hands on the edge of the tank, the rays will come right up to you.”

I don’t say anything, but my wife says “oh, thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything else and after a couple of successful pokes at some sting rays, I hustle the family over the seal tank.

The kids get involved in the seal feeding demonstration and my wife starts to quiz me. “Who is he? Why does we work here? Why didn’t you say hi?”

He’s a commuter on my train that works in my building, I explain. I guess he volunteers at the aquarium on the weekends, I surmise. I don’t know why I didn’t say “hi.”

I wonder about it myself. What would I say? “Hi, I’m the guy that’s been commuting and walking next to you for 3 years and hasn’t said anything, and thinks you walk like a pansy with that half-walk, half-jog technique every time someone tries to pass you on the crosswalk. But now, since we have the aquarium in common, I’d like to be your friend.”

I honestly don’t want to know anything about him. It would only complicate my routine. What if I did say “hi.” What if I learned his whole life story, about where he works, why he works weekends at the aquarium? The next time I see him on the train, I suddenly have this huge obligation to acknowledge him, maybe even talk to him. Or if he sees me. Now he sits next to me every time. Yacks my ear off every morning and every evening. Interrupts my train semi-sleep that I cherish. Interrupts the surrounding people’s semi-sleep, making me look like half the problem. Suddenly, I’m forced to watch out for him everyday, avoid him. I start to stand in a different spot on the train platform, maybe start taking a different train, or start walking a different route to the office.

My life could be turned upside down, simply because I said “hi” at the aquarium.

My commute to and from work, although annoying, uncomfortable and tiresome, is my only relief from mental stress. It is a mindless, yet necessary task, that I have learned to live with and have turned into a personal stress barrier between work and home. To add an element to it that might make it more difficult or just different from what I’ve adjusted to, is a bad idea. I like the way things are. My train is tolerable, the people are unobtrusive, and my commute is uneventful.

If I’m lucky, this will never change.

(Michael Walls is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine and this article is really just a cry for help.)