Strangers on the Train

I haven’t had the opportunity to travel on the train very much. The first time I was on it we were only going 2 stops ahead. But this morning we were on the train to go to Burnaby from Downtown, and I was more ready to draw things.

I love to draw on public transport. I’ve been asked if it’s difficult to do, considering the movements of the train or bus can sometimes be jerky. But on the contrary, trying to draw while moving like that makes you acutely aware of the rhythms. Good trains on good tracks have a steady rhythm which you can easily predict after a couple of stops. As it approaches a station, of which you are forewarned by a bell and an announcement, it either decelerates smoothly or with a long slowdown followed by a jerky final halt. Quite predictable.

In fact, on the return journey, I noticed a woman doing her eyelashes on the train. She didn’t stop while the train approached a station, or pause when it began to leave. If she could do such a critical - and potentially catastrophic - task on the train, drawing is really not that bad!

I was struck by a salient fact during the train ride. One of the best parts about public transport is how close it makes you feel to strangers. In that moment, you are on the same ride going in the same direction. One might get off before someone else, but it is random fate that brings us together for that moment in the same compartment at the same time.

It’s a silly kind of bond, but in big cities all our bonds with strangers are silly in some ways. Other examples include being in the same elevator, going to a movie, or being behind someone in a grocery store queue.

Now this bond too is lost to us with COVID. We try to not look at each other. We can not reveal our faces. Our ears perk up in a mix of suspicion and irritation when someone coughs or sneezes. Society’s trust is eroding.

A ride on the train
But strangers remain strangers
We all wear our masks.

Still, there was some hope in this ride. For we were heading to the Burnaby Hospital, where my wife was to be vaccinated. Just last evening she received a message from Fraser County health authorities, declaring that dentists had been put on the frontline workers list, and could register to get vaccinated. We were delighted to find a date was available the very next day. I sat outside the hospital while she got her Pfizer shot, because the system does not see artists or podcasters as essential workers. Sigh. But I am glad she is now safe, and others soon will be too. It should be a nice summer.