stalkers never cease

now, we all know that i have a bit of a flair for the dramatic, right? right. let me just preface this little drama morsel with the warning that i am not overly dramatizing any of it. it really happened. no exaggeration, i swear.

as of late, i have been taking the T to the gym instead of walking. ever since the whole broken toe ordeal, i've been a little lazy with the walking. and, not that i need the excuse (i AM at the gym for what is becoming an obscene amount of time each week), but my knee has been a little troublesome and i'd just rather save it for the treadmill. back to the point... i ride the T more frequently these days. normally, all is fine. i've learned the ins and outs of T behavior from my years living in the city. granted, i drive most everywhere, but that isn't really the point. i am one with it. that's all that matters. i had thought that i knew about most of the oddities that can happen on the T. i know how to deal with the smelly people, the man that starts talking to me, the drunk guy singing, etc... all fine and dandy. but tell me, i beg you, what pretell am i supposed to do when sandwiched between people in a crowded train and there is a warm hand on your butt. yes, a warm hand from the stranger at my rear. how do i know it was so warm, you ask? i had on thin, bum-hugging gym pants is how. seriously, this whole situation made me queesy and pissed all at the same time. feeling violated but not sure if the act was intentional or not, i moved a half step to the left (all i could manage with the huge backpack from the girl next to me digging into my ribcage). the warm hand followed. so tell me, what would you have done?

you'd do what i did, is what you'd do. you'd turn around, grab the guy's blue, puffy northface parka with one hand while you steadied yourself with the other, and let the rage that was boiling inside you out on the piece of shit man whose disgusting warm hand has attached itself to your ass like a freaking mollusk. "what the fuck do you think you're doing?" i said. before he could get anything out, i held the collar of the parka tighter in my white-knuckled fist and used my other hand to slap him upside the head as hard as i could. he fought his way free from me just in time for the large bearded man standing behind him to punch him in the nose. the warm-handed man dropped to the train floor (after bumping through a few folks) and then the announcer called that the train doors would be opening on the right. we had reached the stop. i got off the train and used the remaining rage to get me through the workout, no even trying to explain how i got blood on my new nike shocks.

or, you'd do what i actually did. holding back the rage that the warm-handed man was causing within me, i continued to try and get away from him. it didn't work and there wasn't anywhere for me to move to. once we reached the stop, i headed for a train door that was further away just to make sure i could escape him. his warm hand was glued to my ass until i reached the steps of the train. from there, i practically ran out of the station. the whole time shuttering and nearly gagging because it was such a gross feeling. what an asshole!

what i would have liked to happen was the first story. the reality of my life, though, is that i flee most conflict situations when i can. so, seriously now, what would you have done?