Hello, I Love You...

...won't you tell me your name?

I have this game I play on the subway, where I look out the window when we pull into stations and make up stories about the people on the platform. Last week I was somewhere in Manhattan on the 4 train, which is express. Traffic was backed up, so we were going slowly past one of the stops that the local makes. We were moving, but I could still see the few people waiting for the 6, although they were a bit blurry. And sitting on the bench was a well-dressed, middle aged woman with short dark hair and a snappy green blazer, who was sobbing. I thought at first she was just blowing her nose, but I started to see her shoulders shake convulsively, and then we turned a corner and I couldn't see her anymore. Not a good game to think about why someone would be that upset on a subway platform. I thought about her all day.

One thing about the comfortable anonymity of a city is that you can do whatever you want, as long as it's not overly illegal or violent, and there is a good chance that people will remember you for a little bit and then forget whatever you did. And I've cried (or laughed loudly, or whatever) in public, of course, but there is a feeling in a small town that people are looking at you and wondering why. Not so here, except, obviously, I notice these things, or else I would not be writing about them now. A while ago I was walking home from work and a woman, probably my age, was having a mega-fight with her significant other. She was screaming, sobbing, and arm-waving, even though he was on the phone. All the proper biddies in Park Slope were tongue-clicking at this display. I felt bad for her, but at the same time, kind of jealous. I have never had a fight with anyone on the street, and it must take some degree of self-confidence to do so and not care what people thing. Or some degree of self-absorption, I guess.

I think cell phone usage prompts these displays too. I've had people at my register who are fighting on the phone, or yelling at their kids on the phone, while I'm trying to check them out. It's super annoying for me, but they don't really care. Is this a phenomena of the world nowadays? Or is it just here that people are so open about airing their dirty laundry? Is this openness a bad thing? In any case, I can't help but listen in.

Anyway, the title of this post (courtesy of The Doors. Watch the song here.) doesn't really refer to love in a particular sense. But isn't it a weird feeling when you see someone on the train/street/bus/store, and you know you will never see that person again? And yet, you know something about them, something private, about their grief or love, which makes you feel like you sorta know them. And it's hard to forget.