I am seriously not a morning person. Waking up at 6 in the morning on a weekday, (on every weekday) is something that bad dreams are made of. Add to that my 7:15 Metro subway ride with bleary eyed fellow prisoners of corporate world.
Toronto, being Toronto - is hugely diverse in color, smell, life and taste. Despite all these differences though, this painful sorrow of mine finds me quite a few friends. We don't look or talk; but we are aware of each other's presence. Fighting off sleep in the most civic manner and trying to make sense of the gossip newspaper in hand (called the metro)we set off on work for yet another day. Frequently peek - sneaking from the cormer of the newspaper in hope to find something that might smother the realm of unrealty which hangs as a daze atop our decafeinated head. Metro tells us that while we we were carelessly spending during the weekend, some damn lucky person just won $32 million thanks to the OLG lottery. And suddenly all the "feel good" aura of weekend - discount shopping vanishes and out comes the most mathematical & ethical of challenges - to do or not to do.
Back to free amusement on Subway ---
Anything goes:
a blaring ipod of a hip school girl that threatens to break the smug and cold calm of the subway;
a bunch of hippies with strange hair color n tatoos n reading books on black magic;
2 oriental females gossiping loudly or constantly eyeing some poor chap n passing a giggling comment in loud hushed tones.
Its strange - If only language (or rather its ignorance) wasn't a barrier, may be I and the 'somebody next to me' could share a laughter and brighten up for the day.
In truth though, we all are scared, ironically- of each other, for no reason at all.
Even "Good mornings" to strangers is impolite.
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