A Very Gripping, I Mean, Groping Story

by Colleen Lis

     I was on my nightly commute to work when it happened. I was peacefully listening to the spring 2006 playlist I made for my iPod and minding my own business. Lost in my own little world, I failed to notice sooner.  A man sat next to me a few minutes after I entered the train and I didn't realize until a few stops later that something was definitely off. And by off, I mean his pants - although I don't know
that for sure. The subway is usually crowded so one knows that when someone sits next to another, the two are literally hip and hip right next to each other. But I didn't feel a hip. This was different. I felt a hand. On my thigh. I could feel the fingers moving, shifting, and grasping. And it wasn't, despite my deepest wishes, a figment of my imagination.
     I can't know for sure but I can pretty much guess what his other hand was doing because when I finally looked over, I saw that his coat was on his lap. *Insert utterly disgusted noise here* His face held a very mellow and sedated appearance as half of his body appeared contorted and crouched over, slowly swaying back and forth due to the movement and natural inertia within the train. And, at that point, we had just arrived at 110th street. Needless to say, I felt really, really uncomfortable
but I didn't know what to do.  As the doors close, my eyes widened and I let out a completely fantastic and entirely silent scream.  As we departed from the station I felt an overwhelming sickness rise from the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to just get up. I wanted to completely vacate the train and not have to look at this guy and admit to myself what he was doing. The few moments from one station to the next felt like FOREVER. I began to nervously and frantically looking around to see if anyone was noticing that something was wrong. My chest twisted up in a knot and I practically held my breath awaiting the opening of sliding doors. FINALLY we arrived at the next station and I immediately darted out of the train and down to a completely different car. Safe At Last.
     In reviewing the situation over and over again I am continually drawn to one query: What was I supposed to do? I certainly didn't want to start yelling and seem like a maniac. I mean, what if he was playing with a shiny new Rubix cube and didn't want to share... or perhaps he was making balloon animals and he didn't want anyone to see because they were a "surprise".  But these scenarios, although both pleasant and magical, seem highly unlikely.  Perhaps I could have leveled with him. I could have simply said “the attention is nice and all but, please Sir, just stop. It’s not you. It’s me. And when I say that... I mean its entirely you. Because you are creepy and touching yourself on New York's mass transit system." But what good would that have done? It only would have proved that his mother never taught him to keep his hands to himself.  And when it comes to something like this, I pretty much have assumed that the law is powerless to help me.  I can just envision myself traipsing up to an
MTA employee or a police officer and emphatically announcing "Hey, someone groped me on the subway!" They would pause and take a second, shake their heads, and let out a huge sigh before replying, "Yeah, you and about 50 billion other people, lady. Move along, Ma'am."
    So what I'm telling myself to make it all better is this: You aren't a real New Yorker until a stranger has fondled you in the subway.  I guess that means I’ve now gone through some right of passage.  Yep. Right of passage. That's the mindset I'm going for...
 

Colleen Lis is a recent college graduate who relocated from Philadelphia to New York City in October 2005.  She strongly believes that her monthly MetroCard is her ticket to the best show on Earth.