Recently I was leaving a building, and as I approached the heavy glass exterior door, I could see someone about to enter from the other side. We both paused and looked at each other for a moment too long, waiting for the other to act.

And then I thought I ought to hold the door for the other person, so I pushed on it to open it. It soon became clear, as the other person made a hesitant half-step, that by holding it open from the inside without passing through the doorway, I was blocking the door. Finally I realized I’d need to walk through first, so I did, making sure to hold it open after I was through.

It felt awkward, as if I’d actually delayed the person I was trying to do a small favour for. “Sorry,” I said as they passed.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” they said. And we went on our way.

It wasn’t until I was reading the new Toronto Public Etiquette Guide by Dylan Reid and the editors of Spacing magazine that I realized I had enacted a particularly stereotypical series of Toronto etiquette situations. There was a version of the “Canadian standoff,” which according to the book happens at a door when two people are “each waiting for the other to go through first, resulting in general paralysis.” There was the dance of opening the door itself, since “Toronto culture enjoys an intricate yet unspoken etiquette of door-holding, a place where the inhabitants’ politeness, love of efficiency and avoidance of speaking to strangers meet in a kind of creative tension.”

And then there was my unnecessary apology, and the needlessly apologetic response to it, which the book makes clear is one of the primary Toronto customs. “The essential verbal lubricants of Toronto public life are ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me.’” These can mean all kinds of things when said in differing tones — from “you are in my way” to “I apologize” to “you ought to apologize.”

Living in the big city means sharing space together, often in close quarters, and in this book Reid and his fellow contributors attempt to outline the Ps and Qs of what’s expected in this particular city, where, as they say, getting places efficiently while generally avoiding spoken interactions with strangers appear to be priorities. In keeping with Spacing’s longstanding obsessions, the book heavily covers the situations you encounter on transit, on sidewalks, when cycling and driving and in public parks and includes other sections on general neighbourliness and Toronto historical anecdotes.

For example, the section about how we keep to the right and pass on the left while walking on the sidewalk is fairly straightforward. That’s how we drive, too, after all, and it mimics our general behaviour (stand right, walk past on the left) on escalators. But this is followed by the story of how a widely mocked, seldom enforced 1944 bylaw codified it, threatening fines on those who did not keep to the right when walking.

As someone who has lived most of my life here, it’s hard to know how many of these customs are common to most big cities and how many are purely local. One tip in particular notes that Toronto drivers do not honk their horns as often as those elsewhere (which I certainly noticed the first time I drove into Manhattan). Elsewhere Reid notes that some of his correspondents who moved here from abroad were surprised at the strength of the expectation that a dinner guest would bring wine or flowers — even if the host protests that a guest should bring nothing.

The thing about etiquette guides, of course, is that the places where you find yourself nodding your head most aggressively in agreement are perhaps the most obvious — outlining the practices that offenders are most likely to already know are wrong even as they ignore the rules. Riding bikes on the sidewalk, for example. Adults shouldn’t do it at all. And if they do, then they certainly shouldn’t, as the book says, ring their bell at pedestrians to clear the way.

And offering seats on the subway to those who need them — elderly, disabled, pregnant people — should go without saying, but doesn’t. But I was happy to see with it here an addendum that I think is often not understood: on a very crowded transit vehicle, when a seat opens up, you can offer it to others, but if there are no takers, you should sit down. Standing next to an empty seat just blocks access to it while also making the aisle more crowded for everyone else. “An empty seat on a crowded transit vehicle is a true waste of good space.”

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Of course, there are lots of situations where the rules of etiquette aren’t clear. Do you line up while waiting for the bus or streetcar? Well, it depends. At some stations and stops, people always form rigid lines, at others, crowds are the custom. The best the book can do in this case is paraphrase a former prime minister (“queue if necessary, but not necessarily queue”) and advise people to pay attention to those around you.

Which is not bad advice in general, since being aware of those around you and trying to make them comfortable, is what etiquette, generally, is all about.

Reid’s book is available at Spacing’s store at 401 Richmond Street or online at spacing.ca. But it’s such a fun topic to think about and debate, I wonder what rules of Toronto urban etiquette Star readers most want widely understood? What are your tips and suggestions? If you moved here from somewhere else, what set of expectations and conventions most surprised you?

If you send me your Toronto etiquette notes by email to ekeenan@thestar.ca or share them on social media with the hashtag #TorontoNice, I’ll collect the best and most interesting. And if there are enough good ones, I’ll write a follow-up column to share the manners lessons around.