Look around when you step on the Canada Line, and you'll notice a lot of signage.
One sign tells you which seats are reserved for seniors. Another tells you not to hold open the doors. Another informs you where to connect with SkyTrain.
Oh, I wish there was another, one that advises riders to use their small voices when riding the train.
Some people tend not to. Some people tend to use their big voices, the ones that ought to be reserved for ball fields or basketball courts or rock concerts.
It's not that I think the atmosphere on the Canada Line should resemble the inside of a church or a library. It's just that, well, sometimes I hear too much.
Take the other day.
"He was, like, LOOKING at me!" said one young gal. She was wearing a private school uniform, and speaking to a schoolmate. "So I texted Holly right away! She FREAKED!" Now, I have no idea who Holly is, or why she freaked, or why what'shis-face was looking at the private school gal. But I do know she was contravening the unwritten Canada Line code, which stipulates riders should not bowl, brush their teeth or take part in hot dog-eating contests while on public transit. Ditto with the screaming.
Still. Some people just don't get the code. The grey haired gentleman I recently heard hollering in his phone didn't get it. But all the other travellers did - that is, they got to hear him go on for a good 10 minutes about his dietary preferences. He liked liver, hated broccoli and absolutely despised cheese.
Then there was this, just last week. The husband and I were travelling to work. Behind us were a man and a woman, aged about 70. I took them to be married.
He tended to whisper. She tended to yell.
"They're ODD," she said. "Very, VERY ODD."
The husband replied, but we couldn't hear what he said. She went on.
"I have NEVER understood it," she said. "NOT for a MINUTE."
The husband muttered again.
She continued. "When you get married, you LOSE your personality," she said. "I REALIZE that."
My husband looked at me and mouthed: "Weird."
We didn't know where the conversation was going, and we never found out, since the train pulled into our station.
On down the tracks, however, we knew the woman would have been continuing to talk about whatever it was she was speaking about - not only to her husband, but to everyone on the train.
