Socially disconnected

Twenty years ago, I rode the Paris metro back and forth to work. The subway was tightly packed with attractive young professionals who exchanged easy greetings and smiles. The conversation was lively, coffee and lunch meetings were agreed upon, and occasionally a romance was initiated. The subway was a cheerful place. Above ground, the sidewalks were teeming with the same conversations and smiles. The gaze of a Parisian woman — looking at you, yet through you, as if you did not exist — cost only a smile.

Last week in Paris, I also rode the metro back and forth to work. I boarded the train each morning with dozens of young people, all of whom had clearly taken time to make themselves presentable to the world. But twenty years later, each commuter is buried in a smartphone, thumbs moving to the pace of a hummingbird's wings. Most of them are plugged into earphones, effectively minimizing the risks of any accidental conversation. The mood is as gray as the January sky. On the sidewalk above ground, I hastily sidestep a young woman lost in her Blackberry. The famous gaze is gone because I cannot smile between the phone and her eyes.

Smart phones and social media allow you to tweet, friend and link to a global community in real-time, no matter where or when you are. But gray isn't my color.