Dancing through the streets

Evening rush hour. It's dark out, which we're still getting used to since it's only a week into standard time. I'm standing directly across Yonge St. from where I need to be, but unfortunately there's no crosswalk at that point. I'm clad entirely in black, wearing four-inch heels, burdened with shopping bags, and pondering whether to risk a jaywalk at this point or to walk a block to a proper crosswalk.

An older woman in a similar predicament is also pondering the same thing, so we catch each other's eye and wordlessly form a temporary alliance. We are soon joined by another woman pushing a baby stroller. We scope out the traffic, use the power of our numbers to assert our position in the curb lane, and then on some unspoken signal run across after that taxi cab, while that SUV is making a left turn, myself and the older woman flanking the stroller by some unspoken agreement in case it's too low for the cars to see. On the other side of the street we unceremoniously dissolve our alliance and hurry off our separate ways, with only a brief glance back to make sure the mother managed to get the stroller up on the curb.

I think this is why people in cities don't make small talk with each other.

I've previously theorized that it's because of sheer numbers (I cross paths with 100 people on the way to the subway this morning - like hell I'm going to say hi or even smile and nod at all of them!), but now I think it's that by having so many people crowded together, we automatically have to engage in quite a few positive social interactions that generate goodwill, just as part of walking around without being an asshole. So because of this, maybe we don't have to chitchat to get positive social interactions or goodwill, because we're already sated.

For example, on the way to work I have to do the door-holdy dance 10 times. I get to a door, take it from the person who's holding it from me, say thank you, hold it for the next person, receive their thanks. There are also two elevator dances, where everyone in the elevator positions themselves in order of anticipated departure, where the person near the buttons tries to offer to press buttons for everyone while everyone tries to press their own buttons without invading any personal space, where you either hold the door and the person running apologizes for making you old the door, or someone opens the door with the call button and then apologizes for delaying you while you apologize for not seeing them. Half the time there's a dog in the apartment elevator which means we also have to do the doggie dance, where I'm gracious about the fact that the dog is sniffing and/or jumping on me while the dog's human is gracious about the fact that I keep petting and babytalking at their dog. There's also a dance at every subway stop (Are there any free seats? Does anyone need my seat more than I do? Am I in anyone's way? No, no, you go ahead, I'm getting off soon anyway) and every subway staircase (I have to make my train and not be in the way of the people going for the other train and I can go fast but still I'm wearing heels and it's downhill so I'll go in front of this old lady to break a trail for her (I hope she realizes I'm helping her and not budding) and behind this big tall man.) Plus people often ask me for directions or to help them with strollers or something - I'd say it happens at least three times a week.

So in total, we're pushing 20 positive social interactions just on a wordless, ipoded and sunglassed, 17-minute commute to work. Who needs chitchat after all that?