Subway Rant -- Tuesday

Here's what I think: people who think nothing of putting their feet up on empty seats in the subway are the scourge of our society. And the shmutz from the bottom of their shoes that eventually winds up on our asses is only the tip of the anti-social iceberg.

We all want to do it. We're all tempted to do it. Many of us have done it -- late at night, drunk or in a pissy mood. But, as decent people, we usually feel a certain sense of guilt for it, like we know we shouldn't. The disapproving glares of strangers are generally enough to bring us back to a less favorable upright position; a rush of passengers into an empty car triggers an anticipatory, pre-emptive foot removal. Defiance in the face of crowds is normally left up to surly teenagers or crazies. The rest, I'll just call assholes.

Unfortunately, these "assholes" have other designs beyond just soiling shared subway seats. Yes, their arsenal includes any number of tactics for making life in these tight, dense spaces (let's call them "cities") that much less pleasant for their fellow beings: blocking subway exits and rushing in first, cutting you off in their cars or bikes, blocking streets and sidewalks, holding their jumbo-sized umbrellas right at eye-level as they pass through thick crouds, walking past silently as you chivalrously hold a door open, etc. etc. We all know the details, but do we care?

The point is that living in cities and negotiating dense places requires an urban etiquette, a tight-space, big city code of conduct for lubricating annoying situations and maintaining flow in the face of looming chaos. You might counter, "but life is chaotic -- you can't control it. Why fight against the inevitable?" And I say, If we were truly resigned to chaos we wouldn't follow any rules. Why follow street lights or signs at all? Why perform any courtesies for strangers? Why say please or thank you? We follow most of the rules because they make sense -- there is no official, enforceable policy. Urban etiquette is simply common sense that, if discarded, would make the world a terrible terrible place. Most of us do follow the "rules," but what of that highly visible, unabiding minority?

New Yorkers in particular pride themselves on their big city skills -- they're tough, quick-witted, verbal, brash, able to negotiate crowds, situations, transactions. And it's true. Living in a big, dense place automatically -- unconsciously -- hardens your skin and teaches you how to cope: how to get what you want, to avoid what you don't want, and to watch out for your best interests when the anonimity of a huge population sure as hell doesn't provide.

New Yorkers' skills at getting what they need -- in crowds, on the subway, at a store, on the phone -- are tremendous. And if that weren't enough, they often pull it off with both charm and humor.

But there is a downside: to so cultivate pushing and asking and demanding and lubricating and getting is to filter out the rest. New Yorkers notice little, absorb less, listen terribly and watch out so well for their own well-being that they routinely forget about everyone else.

Naturally, rudeness and self-absorption exist everywhere. But the willful and prideful version practised by New Yorkers has, unfortunately, achieved the status of local treasure never to be scrutinized. This is great for movies and books, for the collecting of colorful impressions and quotations, but less fun day-to-day, in the midst of the faceless -- and tragically pointless -- bustle.