I Spent a Week Peeking at Phone Screens on Public Transport
The more something is frowned upon socially, the more I find joy in doing it. More dramatic individuals might call this criminal, but I prefer to think I’m merely indulging in a guilty pleasure.
In a sea of guilty pleasures, my favourite has got to be shamelessly knowing the lyrics to every single Avril Lavigne song. Coming in a close second is peeking at other people’s phone screens on public transport.
While I know I should feel guilty for intruding into someone else’s private bubble, the pleasure of peeking at a stranger’s phone lies in catching them with their guard down. People are their truest selves when they believe others aren’t watching, as is often the case when they’re mindlessly scrolling through their phones in public.
Simply knowing I’m privy to a fraction of a person’s most intimate self gives me a rush, the same kind I get when I interview someone and get them to spill their sordid secrets.
For just that moment, I see a side of them I’m sure few others have access to.
And so for no other reason than to live vicariously through someone else, I decided to spend an entire week actively peeking at people’s screens on public transport.
The week starts out lacklustre.
First, I catch a woman texting “Boon” to postpone tuition for someone I assume is her daughter. Her text is in Chinese and I don’t read it fast enough before she switches to Youtube to watch a drama.
On the same bus ride, there is a middle aged woman whose friend sends the text, “Have a nice day friends” to their group chat. Her other friends in the chat reply but she doesn’t.
I can relate.
I also notice that all her recent Whatsapp messages are from group chats.
To this, I can’t relate.
On the way home after work, I board a bus that’s quiet except for the sounds of a chess game coming from an elderly man’s phone. He contemplates every move with the focus of someone who is not actually on a moving bus, never once adjusting his sitting posture throughout his journey.
I experience mild admiration for his lack of self-consciousness. Also, his sense of balance.
Closer to mid-week, I decide to head to the gym early one morning. On the MRT, I sit next to a woman who speaks into her Whatsapp audio recording, sending up to five short audio clips at one go. Her boyfriend/husband/partner, however, replies via text.
I note that her boyfriend/husband/partner is asking her which luxury bag she wants to buy, and I also glimpse the photos of the bags in question. The photos show them in shades of orange and/or brown that resemble pieces from the discount pile of This Fashion circa 2003.
She replies, “No money. Don’t buy. We go Singapore.”
I’m not sure what luxury bag costs less in this country, but I endeavour to find out. Alas, she gets off the MRT soon after.
I turn my attention to the other side of me, where an Indian man, who appears to be in his late 20s, is watching a Korean high school drama with no subtitles. In my mind, he must surely be fluent in Korean.
I am impressed, until I realise how convenient it is to project any personality onto a stranger after a mere glimpse of who they are. For all I know, someone else might look at him and draw an entirely different conclusion.
I recall a quote: “We see the world, not as it is, but as we are.”
