Monday, June 28, 2010

ladies & gentlemen, a crowded subway is no excuse for unlawful sexual behavior...

My usual mad dash off the train this morning was highly unsuccessful.  Getting a seat is great in theory; in reality, it just slows you down.  But on a morning like today, having run out of my apt with wet hair and no makeup, sitting was a must.

I followed the crowd off the train and squeezed my way through the massive people puddle on the platform at Grand Central Station.

Walking up the stairs was a mess, as usual.  This is New York.  People crowd you and push from all angles.  Personal space is a luxury no one in NYC can afford - at least not those of us who spend time underground.  This is the same story every day, I just usually fly out of that train and run up the stairs so fast I avoid it entirely.

That wasn't happening today.

As I took my third, extremely slow step, I noticed something poking my butt.  Well, maybe it was slightly more of a poke/cup.  A tiny cup.  Maybe a loose pinch?  Or a few curled fingers accidentally resting underneath my butt?

No idea.  I (of course) was too embarassed to turn around.

It was awkward, so I pretended it wasn't going on and continued to make my way up the slow-moving staircase.  After about four more steps, I felt it again.

At this point, I'm thinking my face
must be bright red.  My solution?  Awkwardly shift around.  Tuck in my butt as far as possible (quite the challenge).

Now I'm thinking, there is
no way someone could possibly be touching me.  It'd be too obvious to everyone around. 

Then it clicked.  I have a bunch of bananas in my bag.  There's a good chance that bananas are to blame for all this awkwardness.

I start fidgeting/readjusting/flailing about as much as I can without being
too obvious.  If those are banana pokes I want proof!

After a few seconds of spasticity, I get something.  Not
exactly the same feeling as before, but definitely a banana.

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