Often when I arrive, I tell the ticket attendant that I’m here to play, and he or she lets me in without paying a token.
Unfortunately, the Harlendale Avenue entrance was an unmanned one, where you have to pay a token to get in the automated doors. I went to the machine to buy a token, and promptly got my toonie stuck in the machine. I started doing mental math: I’ve just spent $4.50 at the Green P parking, and I’ve lost $2.00 buying a token. Trying another machine, I successfully bought a token for $2.50. So far the trip to Sheppard has cost me $9.00.
Yesterday hadn’t been very financially successful, so I changed a few things today. First of all, I brought my newly-licensed amp along. Second, I arrived 45 minutes earlier, in an effort to catch the morning rush of commuters. And third, I positioned myself across the hallway from where I was yesterday (there were two sets of yellow dots here—this is a posh station!) hoping that the traffic flow would be more advantageous.
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As I played at Sheppard, I felt that in general, people seemed less receptive to the idea of a musician in their environment compared to other stations. When I watched more closely, I recognized a range of openness in people’s expressions. Most people, it seemed, were simply not registering my presence on their faces. For some of them, this was likely a deliberate choice ("Oh no, a subway musician! I know, I’ll pretend not to see her!") Other people may have been genuinely less aware of me, especially those wearing headphones. (Oddly, however, a surprising number of headphone-wearers DID seem to notice me—maybe because they were more engaged in the act of listening itself?)
When hundreds of people act as if you’re not there, it’s really possible to believe that you’re invisible. Have you ever had that feeling in a restaurant, when the waiter inexplicably forgets about you? Have you ever wondered how they could possibly not see you, even as you’re raising your hand into the air and trying to catch their eye?
That’s the feeling you get when you’re playing and singing your best, when you know you’re playing good songs, when you know you’re in tune, and hundreds of people simply pretend you’re not there. (In some ways, it might be better if someone came up and said, "That song really sucked".)
Once again, I was reminded of Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak, and for that matter, the Cone of Silence in that old 70’s sitcom, "Get Smart".
The Cone of Silence would comically descend when activated by private eye Maxwell Smart, enclosing him and his confidante in a space-age plexiglass tube, so that they could have their conversation in secret. The Cone was always uncomfortably small and it never really worked. You always COULD hear poor Max talking conspiratorially with Chief or Agent 99, until they got fed up with it and demanded that Max de-activate the Cone.
Likewise, I noticed that the people who seemed determined not to see me often inadvertently looked in my direction, despite themselves.
Whenever that happened, I didn’t know whether to smile understandingly or look away too. ("Don’t worry! I don’t see you either!")
On mornings like these, the (precious) few people who DO smile and nod, or donate some change, instantly melt away the invisible layer of ice that seems to surround me.
And I have to admit, that layer of ice isn’t comfortable.
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Oh yeah. I made $5.75 at Sheppard today. Yesterday I made $8.80, but my friend put in $5.00.
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