Polite Society

By and large, Australian people are remarkably polite. As a result, daily life unfolds with a level of civility and decorum that I find refreshingly uncomfortable. I often feel like a complete cretin, brutish and terribly uncouth, but slowly, I am learning the unspoken rules of gentility.

As you may know, here we drive on the left hand side of the road, thus slower traffic must keep left. This same rule applies to foot traffic, thus if you should find yourself on the right hand side of a very crowded underground passageway, you will not only suffer the gracious sneers of frantic commuters as they push by you, but will also inevitably experience extreme empathy for spawning salmon. Likewise, when navigating staircases, and especially when standing on escalators, it is important to keep left lest you be trampled by well-mannered Aussies muttering muffled apologies as they race toward their train.

The politeness on Sydney busses borders on crushing. When a bus is not in service, the electronic display above the driver says “Sorry”. At the stops, people form tidy queues and stand patiently aside while other passengers alight the bus, a practice I have never before witnessed. Upon boarding, people split into two orderly lines: people with pre-paid tickets to the right and those who are paying cash to the driver to the left. People practically clamber over each other to offer their seats to elderly, pregnant, or otherwise frail looking passengers. If someone sneezes, the bus erupts in a veritable cacophony of good blessings. Once, after being cut-off on the freeway necessitating an abrupt application of the brakes, the driver apologized profusely to everyone on board. My imagination was at a complete loss to recreate this scene in Los Angeles.

Here, school children ride public buses. If you should find yourself on a city street in the afternoon, your bus is sure to pick up a gaggle of chattering students adorned in their distinctive uniforms. (My favorite uniforms are the well-heeled boys of Monte Sant’Angelo Mercy College who wear black knee pants, long grey socks, black ties, and flat-brimmed straw hats fitted with a black and white striped silk band. In the winter, a crisp grey blazer is added to their ensemble.) Students are required to give up their seats for adults, and they do so with avid enthusiasm. When exiting the bus, each and every student shouts an emphatic “Thank you” to the driver, who politely disguises his annoyance with a grunty smile.

Crass behavior and coarse language is openly frowned upon. In fact, you can be cited for cursing in public, though no one seems to take it seriously. Everywhere you go, you are surrounded by a cheery chorus of “Good Day”, “How ya goin’, mate?”, “Pardon me”, and “Oh, terribly sorry”. Even schizophrenic homeless people are courteous to their invisible demons. I cannot help but wonder what neuroses lay beneath this veneer of civility. Regardless, when I get home after a long day, I feel a pervasive sense of calm that I never experienced after a commute on LA roadways, where a man once showed me his erection for no apparent reason.