Mister Wizarding: The Science of Subway Stalking

This morning, as Mr. Wizard was slowly rolling in his grave, the L train wasn't rolling at all...

You know that one person you fall in love with on the subway or bus every morning? That random person you've never seen before, can't stop looking at, and swear you'll see again the next morning and maybe someday talk to but then you never see them again or if you do you've already forgotten what they look like and are already staring at some other poor wage ape?

Did this blog just get on Hollabacknyc or what?

Anyway, while you're being a hungover AM creep, try this: rather than directly (or even furtively) staring at the person, look at their reflection in the window. The next part really only works on an elevated train or at a platform, since the tunnels tend to be too dark, but still: look at their shoulder—that perfect shoulder, waiting for you to rest your head on it, if only they'd realize...!—and then try to look through their shoulder and observe the world beyond the window.

Got it? Good. You can see that cold, hostile, uncaring world beyond them, full of toil and pain and loneliness. Yippee!

Now stare at the reflection of their face and try to do the same thing. Way, way harder, isn't it? In fact, if the train is moving and their face keeps shifting around in the glass, it's almost impossible; you keep snapping back to them.

LW's totally unscientific hypothesis as to what's going on: It's known that the brain has an entire visual perception system dedicated to facial recognition, not so much to shoulder recognition. So when you're staring at this person's face, it's not the dreamy pools of chocolate wonderment that are their eyes that keep snapping you back, it's the power of a whole chunk of your perceptual system suddenly engaging. It's more valuable to your brain to keep track of this face, with it's corresponding cues that you're potentially about to get attacked, laid, fed, or arrested in case your crush is a transit cop and smells the Captain in your Starbucks, than to look at billboards and awesome-circa-1972 tiling, so it's far more difficult to shift your plane of focus.

It's another one of those cases where your brain doesn't give a rat's ass what you, whatever and wherever this "you" is, actually want. It's kind of a vertiginous, creepy feeling (so there, you can sort of empathize with your subject) to realize you have far less control over your own cognition than all that 3rd-grade self-affirmation jabber would have you believe. You probably can't be president, and you sure as hell can't look through that face in the glass.

Then try bringing this whole train (har!) of thought up with said stranger. Guaranteed sex.

{Our next Mister Wizarding: demonstrating electrostatic repulsion through pepper spray.}