Strangers on the Train

I spend anywhere from one to two hours a day commuting by bus and train, depending on which job I'm headed to that day. Normally I bring my iPod to listen to or a book to read, but today I brought my journal with me. I'm planning to enter Lady Glamis' short story contest, which she kindly told me about after I posted a comment to one of her blog entries. (Side note: Also check out the cool birthday contest on Musings of a Palindrome's blog; the deadline for entering that one is May 1st).

So I was bent over my notebook, feeling dubious about the words I was writing because I wasn't sure if they were good enough yet (but I figure I'll write out the first draft and then go back and revise), when I felt someone's hands running through my hair. I whipped my head around, startled, to find a guy sitting behind me. "You have soft hair," he said.

"Don't touch me," I said, before quickly fleeing the train.

Some of my scariest experiences have happened on my daily commute. On the train, everyone is careful not to look at each other, because if you look at the wrong person, he or she will take that as an invitation to freak you out. For example, once I was on a mostly-empty train and I made the mistake of glancing at a guy sitting in the back for more than two seconds. He responded by taking off his pants. I quickly changed trains.

Another time I was getting onto the Orange Line, and I felt someone stroke my arm. That someone was a guy getting off the train at the same time I was boarding it, and he leered at me before walking away. I yelled, "Jerk! Why don't you keep your hands to yourself!" Another guy came on as I was yelling this, and I quickly said to him, "Not you." I then turned around to see a tourist family (complete with wide-eyed small children) with bags from Shedd Aquarium staring at me. I guess they hadn't expected to see that on their tour of the Windy City.