Why Don't People Talk on the London Tube?

… or you could also ask 'why don't people talk in London in general?' for that matter. Everyone keeps to themselves, they don't even make eye contact – God forbid – sometimes even when you're with friends. They don't want anything to do with your business.

Let me tell you about the time a family of four made random conversation with me on the DLR… I almost just said 'five' because my brain was, for some reason, counting myself in with this family after this absurdly genuine connection.

I was a little wavy from going out for 'some' drinks with a friend, so I didn't particularly want anyone talking to me as I got on at Bank station. It was a Saturday night in February so the train was decently busy but I managed to get a seat near the doors. When the train stopped at Limehouse or somewhere around there, a family of 2 parents and 2 older children (at least that's what I'm assuming) and stood around the area for minute or so, trying to decide on where to sit. The mum and daughter, who was holding a birthday balloon, sat opposite me and the father hesitantly sat next to me, while the son remained standing. The next thing I know, the mum was pointing to my boots and I'm thinking, 'what's wrong with my boots?' Because I was listening to music and trains are always noisy, I could not hear what she was saying. Turns out there wasn't anything wrong with them and she was just saying that they were similar to hers. And they actually were practically the same boots on this woman's feet, except that hers has a fur lining.

The conversation moved from shoes, to the girl's birthday (I don't think I even managed to find out how old she was) to pop culture. I found out that they went to see ABBA near Stratford to celebrate and that it was well worth the time and money. I also found out that the parents weren't fans of modern pop music and that me and their daughter shared the same opinions on said pop music. She was once a die-hard fan of One Direction and I told them that I thought they weren't amazing, but wouldn't complain if their music came on the radio. We discovered that we were both fans of JLS when they were all the rage and fangirled over Aston Merrygold. We were true sisters. And I still don't know her name.

They felt so much like a family that I could comfortably share my opinions with them, no matter how wacky I might seem. I knew that they were normal British people, but they were very open. We only had a few minutes before I had to get off; I had to be careful not to get too lost in conversation. I could easily have gotten off with them at Cutty Sark, thinking I'm heading home for a cuppa and a deep sleep with my siblings and parents.

And throughout this interaction, I couldn't tell if they had been drinking or not and I doubt that they could tell I was drunk either. It got to a point where I couldn't tell if they were from London or not, but my instinct kept telling me probably not and they were just lodging in the Greenwich area. I completely forgot to ask them where they had come from and instead just indulged in these random people's opinions and experiences. It was a selfish feeling to think I was coming home with them, as well as the feeling that I had their support in my endeavours. I adore my actual family, who fills these aspects of my life in terms of openness, understanding and support, but after a few months of living on your own, you will encounter some spiritual deterioration from the old job search or another fight for survival in the modern world, and they might not be there at that moment… and it was nice for those important figures to be there in the form of strangers, even though I didn't know I needed them.

It was such a beautiful moment and every time I think about this, as I am sitting here at my Ikea desk, I never knew I could feel such a loving connection with strangers. If something happened with the train, they would protect me and I would protect them. And it's not like I'm deprived of such closeness, it just happened because the mum commented on my boots.

And I never saw them again. It was one of the most human experiences I have ever had (and that includes being in the countryside). It has left me wanting to discover more about the people around me on the DLR… what they do for a living, what they think of living in London… but I understand why people don't initiate conversation on the tube, and this probably applies to all metros across the world.

You don't know how people are going to respond if you make conversation in one way or another, while you're all up in each other's private space, you don't know whether you will come across like a normal human being in such an intimate space, where everyone is stuck. Timeout makes the claim that 37% of Londoners say that talking to strangers makes them uncomfortable, so to us that are comfortable with it, I get why there's no point in even trying in the first place when there's such a high chance that you won't get a response or, even worse, upset that person. There isn't any point in starting because Londoners – or city residents – are always going to be busy, myself included, so there really is no objective gain or loss in interacting with everyday people.

I suppose it wasn't quite as different in the countryside, although people were more willing to make eye contact I have had the honour of listening to people's personal lives, whether they were talking directly to me or loud enough to overshadow the music I'm listening to.

If you are one of the members of that family on the DLR, please reach out because I really want to know where you came from and what you do for a living.