Monday, March 19, 2007

Old Story

A few years ago when I was still new to the city, my mother
was visiting. The two of us and one man were the only ones riding the
bus one night at about 9pm downtown. At the last stop on the line, the
man walked up to the front of the bus, then turned around and came to
the rear exit where we were waiting to get off. As the door opened he
pushed past me "hurrying to get off the bus", and rubbed his crotch
roughly against my body.

I was horrified, but I couldn't think of an appropriate response that
wouldn't have made my mother flip out. (She is dreadfully worried
about me and my safety, past the point I think mothers usually take
it.) Instead, I turned and scowled at him as he went down the BART
stairs. He actually SMILED at me as I shot him my nastiest look.

The worst part about the story was the very next day we passed him on
the street in an entirely different part of town. I thought I would
never have to see him again, and seeing him the very next day felt
like someone punching me in the gut. He smiled at me again, and I've
seriously never been as paralyzed with anger/fear. I was so pissed
that I missed a second opportunity to call him an asshole.

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