The strangeness of strangers: D.I.Y. philosophy on everyday life.

Ever found yourself waving at strangers from the window of a train? There shouldn't be anything weird about it, - surely friendliness is a natural human trait? Yet communicating with somebody you'll never see again presents an oddly resonant conundrum. Poignant in its affectionate simplicity, waving is perhaps a novelty associated with childhood, yet even the exchange of passing comments with unknown adult faces somehow conflicts with my feeling of security. "Lovely weather isn't it?" we might say with predictable irony, or maybe we'll pluck up the courage to ask the time. But of course, adult interaction with strangers is a far different affair, embodying all the sophisticated cynicism that accompanies becoming a grown-up. Even though we won't see these people again, yet still are we restrained by a polite code of conduct - converting innocent interaction into a conservative minimum.
Is it just me or does it make you uneasy to reflect on such trivial instances - wondering that the representation of 'I' in that moment is only a minimalist portrayal? The impression one receives is that strangers' communication is merely a forced expression of civility, so why should I worry how to present myself? Perhaps it's this condensing of personality into a brief role in the life of somebody else that is so disorientating. It sounds selfish, but we must accept that for each of us, 'I' is the centre of the universe. And so in compromising our identity for a second, 'I' is stripped of its usual complexity and contradiction, and we are transformed into a minute stereotype. All 'I' am in that moment is "the girl on the train".
In fact, it sounds strangely liberating, - to be able to cast off our preoccupations of self. Our heightened sense of individuation is only a survival instinct after all, so disposing of these illusions of grandeur with which we indulge ourselves can only be refreshing. In such an instance we achieve objectivity, something that interaction with friends and family does not allow us, becoming only the sum of our polite cliched words. I travel often, and as I became used to the repeated well-mannered remarks of fellow passengers, I felt compelled to say something shocking or irregular in order to break what I perceived as a social taboo. Remaining a mystery however, keeps 'I' the secret sanctity it should be, for strangers for the most part remain strangers.