Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I was sitting on an OC Transpo bus, looking out the window at the cold wet November evening rush hour. Somewhere on Laurier Avenue East, a well-groomed middle-aged man in a trench coat boarded the bus and sat in the seat beside me.
Like all good public transit users in Ottawa, I respectfully ignored my seatmate, at least until I noticed an unusual amount of unusual activity on his part. I studied his reflection in the window. The activity was coming from under his trench coat; his left hand was under there too, and he was breathing heavily.
It certainly looked suspicious.
I tried to come up with an alternative explanation. Itchiness, perhaps. A nervous tic.
Suddenly he stood up, reached over, and rang the bell. Apparently he was getting off (the bus).
But no, no he wasn’t. He sat back down again, closer, closing the gap between us. His right leg was almost touching my left leg. His right hand started rubbing his right leg, on the outside of his trench coat. The back of his hand was sliding against my outer thigh.
His left hand disappeared under his trench coat again and the activity picked up again. His breathing quickened.
The bus stopped; he didn’t get off. The bus pulled away again and again he stood up, and again he rang the bell, and again he sat down. This time he pressed his thigh against mine as he slid his left hand inside his trench coat.
For the previous two years I had always had a baby or toddler with me. People treat you differently when you’ve got a baby, and I had gotten used to being treated that way. Now that I had returned to school and my son had started daycare, I was facing the world alone again, and it was a bit weird. But it wasn’t usually this weird.
So. A dilemma. A quandary. What to do about the trench-coated stranger? Confront him? Tell the driver? Ignore it? I wasn’t even sure what to feel, let alone do.
I don’t like to accuse anybody of anything unless I’m absolutely certain, and I was only 99.9% certain. I don’t like confrontation. I don’t like telling other people what they should or should not do. Besides, we were almost at my stop; it would all be over soon. I could just ignore it. It was a relief to realize I didn’t have to do anything about it.
So nobody was more surprised than me when I suddenly turned to face the man and said in a loud, clear voice, “Excuse me Sir, but would you mind not rubbing my leg while you masturbate?”
Heads swiveled. Everybody spun around to see the Masturbator, who immediately sprung from his seat and ran for the front door. The bus driver swung open the door and the Masturbator leapt nimbly into the cold wet November evening and scurried off into the darkness.
I felt a little bit sorry for him. I still do.
I always wonder about people wearing trenchcoats… running off into the night, miles from home, could have been an appropriate punishment depending on how cold it was.
I love it! Good for you for sticking up for yourself. I’m sure no one on the bus (besides him) was upset that you confronted him. Even if it’s not a very “Canadian” thing to do!
oh that’s even better than your “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to blog this” remark some months ago
I like the way you confronted him in that very matter of fact way, excellent.
maybe I’m a bit mean spirited, but I don’t feel too sorry for him. He’d probably been doing it (and probably still is doing it) to lots of other people, some of whom were probably quite traumatised by it, potentially. So it’s really good to hear of someone confronting this kind of behaviour, because it’s really not ok.
That was ME! I was the well-groomed middle-aged man in the trench coat. But I didn’t mean any harm. Honest. You gotta believe me. Er, well…um…hold on. Wait just a minute. Come to think of it, I’ve never owned a trench coat. In fact, I’ve never even WORN one. I’m not well-groomed, never have been. I’m not middle-aged, never have been. And I’ve never been on a bus in Ottawa. Hey! I’ve never BEEN to Ottawa. Stop accusing me of doing things I’ve never done! That ain’t right! Oh…sorry. Never mind. Just ignore me. I-I…I’m just trying to attract attention. I’ve got some kind of syndrome, I think.
And it started out as such a picturesque nice story too… never saw that coming.
I’m anxious to know what Woodsy would have done in this situation. She can usually turn stuff like this into a romantic adventure
I think that every story ever told from now on should end with the line “Excuse me Sir, but would you mind not rubbing my leg while you masturbate?†SO. AWESOME.
OH.MY.GOD. OHMYGOD.
Of all the transit stories I’ve heard and experienced, this is the creepiest by far.
EEEEEEWWWWWWWW!
Good for you for outing him, though.
Yet another good reason not to travel public transit. The same thing happened to me and my best girlfriend when we were about 10 years old. We sat down in a movie theatre and this guy in a trench coat sat down and began doing the same thing.
Gabriel, I think his cheeks were burning hot enough to keep him nice and toasty for quite awhile.
Toni, it definitely livened up the bus and gave all my fellow passengers something to talk about over their dinner tables that night.
Nursemyra, my only regret was that this happened before I started blogging.
Helen, you’re probably right. I always root for the underdog though, and the look of sheer panic on his face once he’d been exposed (so to speak) elicited my sympathy.
Tom, that syndrome must keep your life interesting. 😉
Chris – I never saw it coming either (thank God).
XUP – I’m curious what YOU would have done.
Roro – I’m not sure how versatile a line it is, but maybe we could incorporate it into popular culture somehow.
WC – Life is much more interesting on the bus than in cars, wouldn’t you say?
RAINO – I’m not sure this would be a good reason not to use public transit. It could have happened anywhere, and it’s only happened to me once in all my years of using public transit. (Do you still go to theatres?)
I was kinda hoping for a surprise ending there. No, not that kind of a surprise. Just the type where it is revealed that Creepy Trench-coat Guy was really harmless, and perhaps nursing a sick bunny in his pocket.
Life perpetually disappoints.
Wow, gross! I’m glad you spoke up, especially since he was like, touching you. I’d like to think I’d do the same (speak up, not masturbate), but like you, I’d probably doubt it was actually happening… ugh.
I’m with Susan (no.12) above — I was hoping it was a pet he had. Man. I have to train myself to jump up AS SOON as I suspect something weird and point my finger and yell, “J’Accuse!”
Come on, people: You’re missing the point. It WAS a pet. Just be thankful no one got wet.
I can’t believe I just wrote that. Where’s the “delete” button?
Hilarious! Absolutely hysterical. Funniest damn thing I’ve heard in awhile. Your comment was awesome. Every once in a while I surprise myself by stepping outside of myself (like you did) and saying or doing something totally unexpected. A great empowering experience. Good for you.
I just laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants. Good for you! I could never have said anything, I would have just suffered through it. You do kick some ass, Zoom.
I ride the bus frequently, even the Ottawa Transit when I visit, but never got a masturbator sit near me before. Lots of creepiness, though.