Yesterday evening, about 5.30 pm, on the FV line from 14th to 23rd St., a man across from me on the subway car reached his hands into his pants. At first it appeared he was just doing that thing certain older Italian men do when sitting on the couch. Which basically consists of using the waistline of your pants as a pocket. However, as the crappy mobile phone photo above shows, this guy definitely started massaging himself, actively and openly. Up and down, in and out, you could see a forest of pubes with each movement of his hand taking his pants lower and lower. The Wacko Wacker had his face covered the whole time, maybe having done this before, rightly assuming people might take a photo. Passengers on the train were looking at each other aghast. Two women got up and moved to another car. At this time, he had now whipped the whole thing out, and was rubbing himself wildly. The little Asian woman sitting on my side looked at me, fear or utter bafflement frozen in her face, as if to say she had no idea what to do, and wanted me to do something about what was happening.
The train came to a stop in the station at 23rd St. Moving outside to the platform, I attempted to take another photo. He must have seen me standing there out of the corner of his eye. He dropped his hands from his face, stood up and looked at me, clearly distraught at the thought that an identifying photo had been taken.
"Hey, you, you, you're taking my photo?"
Dude was big. 6ft+, muscular, and I assumed would break me in half if he had me in his hands.
I looked behind me in both directions to make sure that if I had to beat feet, I would be running towards the exit.
"Of course I'm taking your picture," I replied, while clumsily attempting to take another photo, but unable to do so. The doors started to close, the train started moving, and he started to walk towards the other end of the subway car.
Related: Holla Back New York City.
Share This
No comments:
Post a Comment