People who live in major cities are toads, right? Rude and obstinately sullen, urban folk would rather jam their elbows into the guts of tourists walking the streets at a snail’s pace than offer anyone a hello. Slow down a New Yorker long enough to ask directions and chances are you’ll receive an annoyed groan instead. Accidentally step on the wrong Bostonian’s foot and you may hit a nearby brick wall with your face. And just try practicing your crap French in Paris. City dwellers aren’t always big meanies, of course, but enough to give themselves a bad rep.
Today, I figured out why.
I should confess I’m no city mouse by blood. I grew up in Ohio where a trip to the bank can turn into an hour-long convo about the cashier’s bunions and how fast his kids are growing up. People are ridiculously friendly in the Midwest and for the first couple decades of my life, I was, too; chatting up strangers, acknowledging when I bumped into people on the sidewalk, smiling. But at nineteen, I moved to a major city for college and since then have lived in big cities all over the world. I’m still a kind, generous person. But I need the sound of cars passing outside my window to sleep at night. I must see at least ten restaurants and an independent movie theater to consider a neighborhood livable. I wear heels on camping trips. Who am I kidding, I don’t go on camping trips. There are bears out there, you know. Bugs and dirt.
In other words, I’m a city person. Fortunately, I’m not a complete jerk city person who finds no reason to live anywhere else. One day, I’d like to return to a quieter place. But right now, I need the noise.
So, today I was on the subway headed to the Greyhound station. This friendly out-of-towner sees my bags and asks where I’m going. I think, ‘buddy, you’re getting two responses out of me then this conversation is over.’ When he asks why I’m going where I’m going, I lie because the truth would only beg more questions. Then I open my book and start reading.
On the Greyhound, this lovely woman asks the time and I give her a curt answer to avoid engagement. She compliments my hair, so I offer a genuine smile then quickly turn back to my book to deflect further questioning. Then during a stopover, some old Brit starts talking to me because he’s seen the book I’m reading and wants to know what it’s about. And I’m thinking, ‘dag blast it, why do these people keep talking to me?’
I know why. Because they’re nice. And at heart, I’m nice and they probably sense it. But there’s a reason I don’t want to talk to them, and it’s the same reason city folk don’t always want to talk to people they don’t know.
When you live in a city, nearly every second of every day is filled with relentless interaction, constant dialogue and unremitting intellectual stimuli fueled by friends, family, people in meetings, people in grocery store lines, people on the street. You are always stuck in traffic or smelling the armpit of some stranger on a crammed subway. You are always impressing your boss, your date or neighbors, always marketing yourself and networking, always busy and late. You are always “on.”
Consequently, when you have ten minutes on a subway with a foot of empty personal space around you, when you have twenty seconds until you have to get off the elevator, when you have four hours on a bus alone, you relish them. Here’s an opportunity to turn off. Decompress. Have your thoughts to yourself. Breathe. Some dude in a giant cowboy hat asking if there’s a Denny’s in the area can be seen as a bit of an intrusion.
Perhaps this is no comfort to tourists who visit our nation’s cities only to get pushed and shoved on the sidewalk by grumpy natives. But maybe with understanding, our guests can show some sensitivity, be patient with us…
And get the hell out of the way.
[Image from www.helpimasoutherner.blogspot.com]
This is an intriguing explanation. I live in a big city too, and have wondered why I kind of resent talking to strangers (not all of them, but most for sure). You could be right. I think instinctually we get the feeling that the person asking us for the time isn’t just asking for the time; it’s just the first question they could come up with, in order to engage. We know this, and so we lie and say we have no idea (while we hide our watches beneath our shirt sleeve).
I have to say though, I had heard about Parisians’ legendary aloofness. Consequently, when I travelled there I was pleasantly surprised – bordering on shock – to discover that the shop keepers and strangers I met there actually appreciated my lame attempts at speaking French. They encouraged it, and smiled and responded as best they could too. I even managed to get the patrons of small tobacconist’s shop all laughing by a quick joke I made. All in all, it was a pleasant stay.
Couldn’t help noticing the difference between residents of Paris, and those of Montreal Québec too. In Québec, when you attempt to speak French, they tend to roll their eyes, and then quickly switch to English. The message comes through loud and clear: they would really prefer that English-speaking dogs not sully their language, s’il vous plait.
While it’s true a lot of us tend to think of time on the subway as alone-time despite the crowds around us, I don’t think the pace of city life is the whole explanation. It’s not like people in small towns all live alone and have to socialize at the grocery store or not at all.
I think an important part of this is that in a small town that person you see at the store is someone you are likely to see again at some point. Maybe not tomorrow or in the next month, but eventually your paths might well cross again. In a big city, if you meet another person on the street it’s extremely unlikely you’ll ever see them again. If they are clearly from out of town, that’s even more true. So the effort you spend being nice to them, helping them out, etc. is “wasted”…that is, they will never be able to return the favor for that time you gave them directions or sympathized about their health problems. If you help them, it’s an altruistic act. Being altruistic is hard.
I think the reason us back-woods country folk from the Midwest are friendlier is we just at too bright. We just ain’t smart enough to realize people want to screw us bumpkins over. Just kidding. I used to leave in Chicago, and while city living is exciting, all the noise, and activity 24/7 is stressful. Our senses are constantly on alert for danger (primeval response) from the bus about to run us over, the potential mugger, the crowd rushing at us, etc. I believe our brains are trying to shut down for a bit to clear out the over abundance of stimuli. The social niceties of interaction are a distraction from survival, so yes some people are rude, but I choose to believe that in many cases their brains are turned inward, and it takes awhile to reboot for social interaction. This may be a case of my rose colored glasses fogging my perceptions, but us simple country folk are all about rose colored perceptions.
Wow, I love all these thoughts!!
Wolfshades, I think I was being a bit of a punk by insulting the French. In fact, I’ve been to France loads of times, and for the most part, had nothing but positive interactions with the people, including Parisians. But if I do think about it, the only time I ever had anyone physically cringe when I’ve tried to speak their language (and this includes French, Spanish and German speakers) they were French! I still love the heck out of them though!
Matt, I love your point and think I even read something about it somewhere! We know most of the people we come into contact on any given day we’ll never see again, so it doesn’t seem to make sense to engage. It’s too bad though because sometimes it’s nice to just interact with another person. You never know what you might discover. However, it does cut into our me time.
And dearest Oscar, you are FAR from simple no matter where you live. But you’re absolutely right! Our brains are turned inward – protecting, asserting ourselves, doing whatever we have to do to get through our days. It does take a while to “reboot for social interaction” (I love how you say that!) And sometimes, by the time we’re ready, our confused tourist is already half way down the block.
…I grew up in the Quebec countryside, and have spent my entire adult life living in a big city ( 3+ million ), and the main reason why city-folk often come off as cold is simply the volume of people you have to deal with each and every day.
Living in the country, I might have seen 5 people in a single day ( apart from my school friends ), where in the city I cross paths with thousands of people almost every day.
It’s easy to say “Hi!” to five people, but things change when the five becomes hundreds or thousands of people. Kindness and friendliness has it’s limits.
I hear you, Guy! It’s hard to say ‘hi’ to thousands of people on a daily basis, and exhausting! In fact, I think that’s a huge part of it. It’s just exhausting to be so constantly engaged. Understandable then, how many city folk move to the sticks. I’m beginning to feel tempted myself!
YES! This post explains “city jerkiness” so well! As a fellow Midwesterner, I get stopped all the time by people and I always try to pull out the “nice” but it doesn’t always happen. Although, you understand because, well, we’ve concluded that we were probably separated at birth.
Ange, you’re absolutely right! We were separated at birth. Matter of fact, I’ve decided whenever I’m confused about what steps to take next, I should call to see what you’re gonna do!