Random tram thoughts 1

In the absence of anything particular to complain or fret about, I’m going to write about something entirely insignificant that I observed during today’s morning commute. By some miracle I was a couple of trams earlier than usual, so it was not too crowded. A few stops into my journey, I randomly noticed that the two people opposite me were wearing the same shoes. I mean, hers were brown and small, and his were black and much larger, but they were very similar in model, with matching white piping detail.

Subtle closer inspection revealed that these feet belonged to a girl and boy in their early 20s. In my pre-8am fog I hadn’t noticed when they had taken their seats, or even if they had appeared together. Now they seemed each to be lost in their own thoughts, isolated and insulated by the inevitable personal headphones (as indeed was I), showing no sign that they knew each other or were even aware of each other's presence. With nothing better to occupy my tired brain, I briefly pondered the chances of two people wearing such similar shoes sitting next to each other entirely by coincidence.

Zero, as it turned out. A few stops later, the girl turned and said something quietly to her companion, removing one earphone to do so, and obliging him to do the same. So they were at least acquaintances, if not a couple. This set off a new train of speculation; did they set out with matching shoes deliberately? Perhaps it was this that brought them together, hearts set alight as their eyes met over the white-piped-trainers section at Shoes-r-Us...

I can’t remember, on the rare occasions I’ve traveled on local public transport with my Other Half, every having felt the need to shut myself in my private musical world, as I often do when I am alone. Maybe if we made the same daily commute side by side I’d think differently, although I’m not sure that OH would approve. These two obviously had some agreement in place, as following the brief exchange, they immediately returned to their individual headphone-assisted meditation.

Then, precisely two tram stations before my stop (which also turned out to be theirs), and without any communication or interaction between them that I could see, they both simultaneously started rolling a cigarette. Hers with a filter, his without, but otherwise identical. They spent the rest of the trip fidgeting with their cigs and making lighter movements with their respective thumbs, still lost in their inner worlds.

I descended by a different door to them, and no doubt will never see them again. I don’t know if this mini non-encounter had anything to do with anything at all, but I failed to switch to my habitual tram-to-office tunes, and instead trundled along to “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones. I was so luxuriously early that for once I did not have to scurry blindly, but had time to notice that the sky was a glorious patchwork of blue and brilliant orange in anticipation of the imminent sunrise. Life felt good.

Too much music

To follow on from my Technology in my pocket entry, the phenomenon of personal, portable music has always raised questions in my mind. Don’t get me wrong: I love music, I need music, and have probably devoted far more of my life to it than the average listener. But the extent to which private music seems to have become so irrevocably associated with public transport, for such a large proportion of every tram/train/busload, sometimes does bother me. I fully understand the boredom and isolation of the morning commute, and the need for something to help gear up for, or help forget, the working day ahead. However, when it reaches the extent that listeners plug in even when traveling with friends, and retain their headphones when conversing, something is wrong.

I am not one of these people that put their headphones on with their clothes in the morning. Sometimes I find the close quarters of in-ear sound claustrophobic, and if I do decide to "wire up" I am so paranoid about disturbing others that sometimes I can barely hear my music over the thumping machines of fellow commuters.  Other days, I can’t wait to get to the tram stop before I'm trying to untangle headphone wires.  Then I switch off from the world and let the music take me where it will. 

I grew up with the Sony Walkman tape player, in model if not actual brand, used mainly for long school trips and the very rare occasions when I rejected my parent’s choice of car stereo music (not often necessary – my parents have excellent musical taste). Early in my working-commute career I dabbled with a mini-disc player (remember those?), then my first foray into mp3s was via a free-upgrade mobile phone. I only invested in a cheap mp3 player so I could continue learning Spanish on the plane to Mexico (either flight mode had not yet been invented, or – more likely – I hadn’t heard of it).

That cheap mp3 player served me well, eating AAA batteries and in return feeding me 256 megabytes of my favorite tunes (or language courses). However, as commuting life really kicked in, I found that I sometimes couldn’t find quite the right tune for the moment. As with so many gadgets before, I descended into the inevitable spiral of convincing myself that I needed, and deserved, something more. In short, I started hankering after an iPod.

I did the usual agonizing and waiting, carefully weighing the options and selecting a reasonable model. I knew 6-year-olds that owned iPods. Even my parents had invested in one for traveling. Surely it was my turn? Finally, when subtle (obviously too subtle) hints one birthday season came to nothing, I treated myself.

So now I have the choice of hundreds of songs to feed my ears on the go. There is undeniably something to suit every occasion and mood. BUT here is the crazy thing; ninety-nine percent of the time, I listen to the same few favorite songs, many of them via a playlist painstakingly recreated from my old 256MB player. Even worse; to get me from the tram stop to the office, I almost invariably switch to one of two top favorites, to really finish the waking-up process and put me in the right frame of mind for the day ahead. It seems that 16 gigabytes of musical choice is not what is required to get me to work in the morning after all.

No, I am not going to reveal what those two tram-to-office songs are. Oh, okay then: one is a freak Eurovision winner, and the other is about the plight of Cornish miners. And if you can work that out, you are quite possibly my soul mate.

Technology in my pocket

One of the most obvious manifestations of my modern-day inner conflict is my relationship with technology. I really am not a jump-on-the-bandwagon, always wanting the next-best-thing, upgrading-just-because-I-can type person. My approach to the panoply of gadgets with which our consumer society controls us is much more convoluted.

Take my recently-acquired smartphone, for example. I resisted for what I’d like to think was a respectable amount of time. I waited until my existing mobile was at least a little on the blink (well, it crashed a couple of times). I didn’t go for the latest, greatest addition to the market, but spent many agonizing hours circling around online comparison sites and reviews to choose a model and subscription that met my “needs” without being too flash. It seemed like almost everyone around me had a smartphone; surely I was missing something? A smartphone could save time, I could work during the morning commute, it would make me more efficient; in short, I succeeded in convincing myself that I needed one.

So now I have joined the ranks of those travellers who seem unable to function without their smartphone glued to a palm on the tram. We check emails we would be able to check more easily on our office computers in fifteen minutes’ time; we waste precious MB on Facebook; we play 101 variations of Solitaire; we ruin our eyes peering at e-book applications (because, of course, it is far too inconvenient to also carry a book). A journey without a multitasking phone seems like such a waste of time, and interminably boring.

Then I arrive at my destination, elbow my way off the tram, and shove my phone, often together with my ipod, into the dodgy pocket of my winter coat, worn and somewhat scruffy because I tell myself I can’t afford a new one. To this technology-fest add the laptop computer in my bag (which I can currently justify as being work-issue), and often an external hard drive and flash drive or two. The sheer volume of wiring, rare earth metals and memory space about my not-terribly-well-dressed person on an average day is, when I think about it, rather terrifying and abhorrent. And yet it all seems so necessary and normal.

I know, yet I am fooled. I am aware, yet I am ignorant. I feel the fear, but I am obviously not afraid enough - yet.