Strangers on a Train

You normally don't talk to strangers on the subway. It's just weird to do so. When I first moved here, I once tried to strike up a conversation with someone ("How was your day?"), but was received with a frightened, stony silence, so I never did it again.

This morning, an old man near me was reading a Chinese newspaper. I can't read or speak Chinese, but the picture on the front page struck me, because it was of a funeral for a woman that I recognized.

I wanted to ask the old man about it, because I wanted to be sure. I don't know anything about Chinese celebrities, so the deceased could've been some other famous overweight woman with iconic eyeglasses.

This is one of those dumb Year of Yes moments. If I talked to this man, the worst he would do is ignore me. Or speak to me in Chinese. There weren't any real consequences.

On the other hand, if I kept silent, I could just look it up on Wikipedia a little later, but my social anxiety would've won a minor victory.

It took a little bit to get up my courage, but then I tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me," I said, and pointed to his newspaper.

He offered it to me (for some reason, subway etiquette deems it OK to ask for newspapers), and I turned it to the front page. "Lydia?" I asked, and pointed to the main article.

"Lydia." He repeated.

"She died?" I asked, which was kind of dumb, because no one puts up a photo in front of a coffin unless that person has passed away.

"Died," he said.

I thanked him and we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Rest in peace, Fei-Fei. You made many people laugh.