Strangers on a Train... in the Worst Way Possible

By the title of this blog, you can probably guess what kind of day I've had...

I will not tell you about all of them, but I will tell you about the one that made me want to press up against a woman more than I've ever wanted to before in life.. ever. *

 It was rush hour (which for those of you who don't know, lasts from 3:30-8pm here in Barcelona, much like Toronto). Hundreds of people, cramming themselves into steel tubes that will rocket them to some point in the city that is closer to where they live. Man I miss cars. Also, by "rocket" I clearly mean "move at a pace faster than you can walk, but not so fast that you blink and its over".

 So here we all are, ten of us trying to maneuver our bodies onto the already full train in order to get to our destination faster, and lets face it, even if we waited for the next one, there would still be too many people to be able to get a breath of air, so we might as well just get on and deal with it. For anyone who is claustrophobic, I imagine this experience would be the thing that makes you lose your shit and kill people- the train would emerge from the tunnel internally covered in blood and there you would be, standing up on the seat and clinging to the handrails, shaking with cowardly rage over the bodies of the fifty-seven people you just destroyed. Yup, there is that many people on the train.

 Now, no matter how many people can squeeze themselves onto the train, it is still customary to try not to touch the person next to you. This is not the telephone booth that you tried to fit 20 people into as a youth, you still have to have some decency in tact. So I am between someone's arm in front of me, the door behind, a woman to my right (the one I would have spooned if it were in any way appropriate) and a gross old man.

 To be honest, he was probably grosser because of his actions, and I likely would not have even noticed him if not for his actions, but still gross none-the-less. When the train gets going, much like in any other moving vehicle, bodies sway. Well, the train started moving and the sway would have had me leaning towards this man, but because of my incredible balance and my discomfort with touching strangers, I have mastered the art of train surfing to the point of barely moving when the vehicle starts, if I so choose. Well, he moved. And then he righted himself, big belly and all right into my side. And there he stayed, for the duration of the trip to the next stop. Another man a few feet away from me must have noticed my face because he gave me the "aw man, I'm sorry for you" look. Thanks random stranger, for noticing in my unquantifiable displeasure.

 Upon the doors opening at the next station to let people off and on, I had, as any normal person would, assumed that he would kindly remove himself from his position pressed up against me. This is something he did not do. The doors closed again with the same number of people crammed into our space as had been before, though this time there were new people added to the starting-to-sweat hell that is this moment. The train moved again, and again the man swayed slightly, though this time his stomach was never not-touching me, and when he righted himself, somehow his (to quote Sheldon) "bathing suit parts" ended up against my thigh. UMMM!!

 It was in this moment that I started to inwardly panic. If not for the two or three layers of clothing between our skin, this old man would be succeeding in making his all dreams come true: once again rubbing up against a hot, young blonde in public with his... *shudders*. I can't even finish that sentence.

 This is my nightmare.

 Undeniably.

 Strangers being close in an elevator for a few moments is one thing, and anyone who has ever worked in the Scotia Plaza in Toronto can appreciate that when there are only 1-5 people in the elevator at five minutes to nine, you wish it were socially congruous to close the doors on the four other people running towards the gaping portal, citing it as your way of trying to prolong their freedom from "the man". Of course, that is not deemed acceptable behaviour and so when those people cram themselves in, you count your lucky stars, literally, because hopefully you have enough that by the time you've counted them, at least someone has gotten off the elevator. Also, in downtown corporate Toronto, daily showers and deodorant are an important social protocol and being that it is not yet 9am, everyone still smells fresh.

 But at rush hour in a major city on one of the most used lines in the metro system, all hope is lost as the closing doors trap you in this vast yet confined space with frisky strangers at the end of their workday. I feel bad for some of these people. They may have thought that they could skip the shower this morning and get by Italian style with deodorant and body spray, and that the tuna fish sandwich they had for lunch with a wine chaser would end up leaving their breath smelling minty fresh.

 Dear Girl-beside-me-I'd-like-to-spoon,

Your breath doesn't smell good, but I'd still like to get to know you better than this leaner with a big belly and an appetite for girls in tight spaces.

Sincerely,

Notice-I'm-not-breathing-and-move-over

 I'm still having internal debates over whether to elbow this man so hard that he keels over, or continue holding my breath and enduring this most awful commute when the announcement rings through the train: "El proximo estacion: Verdeguer". Oh thank God there are only a few more moments of this unimaginable agony. Count backwards from 10: 10, 9, 8,- why is he staring at me?!- 7,6,- I can't even handle this anymore- 5, 4, 3, - oh no the train is slowing, he's leaning again only this time it's into me more than on purpose!- 2, 1 - OPEN YOU DAMN DOORS! OPEN!!!

 The doors slide open and he remains exactly where his is. Thankfully, enough people are moving out of the train that by the time new people can come in, I have moved to the opposite side of the train. Yes, my stop is next. And yes, I would rather fight my way past all of these people than spend another second racing through a long dark tunnel wishing I could melt into a fruit fly and die in the next 4.5 seconds.

 The man looked at me as the doors shut, as if to say "we were having a moment and you just... left?!" No sir, you were having a moment and I was being accosted by a stranger on a train.

 Can I have my virginity back?



*Yes MC, even more than you...even more.