on the road less travelled in Ireland and france

By Conal Healy

Fran and I are riding a rush-hour metro, under the Champs-Elysees in Paris, when we pull into a station. The carriage is silent, just like every commuter train across the world – everybody is eager to get home after finishing work for the day. Then another metro pulls into station and the carriages are side-by-side.

In the other train, three young boys start pulling faces at the people in our carriage, safe in the knowledge that they will not be caught. The boys, all under eight, could be brothers, are in the care of what looks like to be an au pair – but she is busy looking at her mobile phone.

The boys continue their face-pulling, I see them and decide to ignore the situation. It is what commuters do.

The three boys seem to be upping their face-pulling, as though encouraged. It is then I see Fran is making faces back at the boys – who are now relishing the competition.

Slowly the people in the other metro become aware of Fran’s antics. “Why is this woman pulling faces at us?” They might have asked themselves, bemused. Then they see the trio on their side pulling faces, and start to smile.

Then the passengers in our carriage become aware of the face-off competition and smile at the thought of Fran pulling faces – “Go Our Team”.

She is matching their facial gurning with relish. The bored au pair looks up from her phone, sees the facial fighting … and goes back to her small screen, oblivious to the happiness the scene is generating in both carriages.

The metro pulls out of the station, the happiness around us dissolve and the scene is slowly forgotten. I smile at Fran, the last thing those boys were expecting that afternoon was a face-pulling competition.

“They met their match in you, Fran” I tell her.