I sat alone, minding my own business and quietly listening to my headphones, for the first few stops. Then, suddenly, a large woman sat down in the seat next to me.
Now, this is the first rule of Septa etiquette I’d like to address. If you have the option to leave an empty seat between you and another passenger, you do it. We in Philly really like our personal space, and we tend to have wider radii for that space than most. I’ve even seen people who know each other sit in two separate rows when the vehicle is empty enough. Sitting right next to someone you don’t know when there are plenty of other free seats is unfailingly taboo.
So this woman plopping herself down next to me in a car holding maybe four other people was my first sign that something might be going on here. She smiled and said hello as she sat down, though, and such an uncommon gesture of kindness among Septa riders is always something I welcome warmly, so I couldn’t be annoyed with her.
I should have known that no Septa rider is ever nice just to be nice.
After she and I shared the row in uncomfortable silence for about thirty seconds, she handed me a brochure, and said, “Here, would you like one of these?” which was kind of a pointless question, because it was already in my hands. I smiled and thanked her. But just taking whatever it was she was giving me was not enough for her; she stared at me, smiling, until I was forced to read the pamphlet.
And of course, just my luck, it had to do with God.
Now, as anyone who lives in Philly knows, being handed one of these religious pamphlets is a relatively common occurrence. They’re usually small, colorful little things with pretty drawings that explain to you, very kindly and at a fifth-grade reading level, how wrong you’ve been about God your entire life. The people who give them out are clearly passionate about what they believe in, and they want others to feel the same way. And honestly, even though I know most people hate it, I really don’t mind it when someone gives me a God brochure. I’m not too keen on other people telling me what to believe, but I have an odd respect for anyone who can believe so strongly in something intangible. Most of the time when someone gives me one of these pamphlets, my odd respect for them overpowers my annoyance. This is because the encounters usually require no further interaction between the converter and the convertee/sinner (me).
But that day on the subway, while I was stuck seated next to the woman who’d given me the handout with at least four stops to go before I could get off, the encounter could not and did not end.
She watched me as I paged through it, pretending to be interested. I nodded my head and said “hmm” a few times for good measure, because I thought that seeming interested would satisfy her. Apparently, though, it only encouraged her to take things a step further.
“I’m actually headed to a barbeque that my church is holding for our youth group,” she told me. “There will be all kinds of food and games, and plenty of kids your age. We’re all supposed to bring a new friend with us, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
I looked at her for a second, then back down at the brochure, then back to her again.
“You know what?” I said. “That actually sounds great. I had nothing else to do today anyway- it’s not like I was on the subway for a reason, headed anywhere in particular. I’ve actually just been kind of wandering aimlessly. And I do mean that figuratively and literally. I’ve been needing some guidance in my life, but I didn’t know it until you handed me this brochure. And, after the three minutes I spent reading it, I’ve realized that your religious beliefs fit my outlook on life perfectly. I think that I, as a very white girl who only moved to the city a year ago to go to college, would fit in perfectly with the other people in your congregation. We have so much in common. But you already knew that, didn’t you? You saw me sitting here, and you could just tell that I’d be a perfect fit for your church. It’s amazing how accurately you judged my personality after having known me for only a few seconds. Let’s go! Where’s your church? Are you going there right now? Just lead the way, and I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Actually, I just told her that I was on my way to meet my mother for brunch, but damn, I would have liked to go, and that I really appreciated her offer. Which also involved a lie, just like I would have been lying if I’d said all those things I didn’t really say, but I lied a lot less this way.
And that was how I learned the next rule of Septa: Don’t ever take anything that someone is offering to you while on board. You’ll avoid a lot of painful, awkward, lie-filled situations. This may seem like a relatively unimportant rule, but I’ve actually had to utilize it multiple times since that first encounter. People like to hand stuff out on the bus/trolley/subway a lot more than you’d think.
People like to ask you to give them stuff on Septa vehicles, too, but I’ll save that for my next chronicle.
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