Minutes ago, I prematurely jumped off the 8X Muni rumbling down Powell on the way to Fisherman's Wharf after I got my surprise of the day. In a daze that only sets in after riding a frustratingly slow bus across the entire city, I glanced back at a stoned-looking dude sitting alone in the back seat, whose air-brushed rhinestone-encrusted T-shirt had caught my eye a few blocks earlier because it read, in part, "fleshy."
A few blocks later, I casually glanced back at him and saw some unnecessary manual maneuvering happening in his groin area. I looked down and saw something that I first recognized as a cigar (laugh if you must).
Close, but no cigar. A half-second later, I realized that was no Cuban.
You could say this cock sighting, uhhh, jerked me out of my daze. A sort
of "What the fuck?" look passed on my face, probably giving the dude
exactly the reaction he'd wanted.
I was pissed I hadn't had the
foresight to snap a photo and post it on this blog. But I was mostly
pissed because this is not the first time this has happened. Actually,
it's déjà vu. And it sucks.
Transit-riding ladies, can I get a holla?
It seems public transit is one of the last bastions where men can get
something, though many women get off Muni, I don't think many women are getting off on Muni.
A couple years ago, I was riding BART home after 11 p.m., and same
thing -- I look over at a dazed-looking young guy a couple seats away,
my gaze drifts down to some rustling about in his cock region, and BAM:
BART cock sighting.
At least in Seattle the bus pervs have the tact to cover their indiscretions with our sister paper, Seattle Weekly.
We're not the only country that has problems
with the transit pervs. When I was studying in Mexico in college, I noticed one morning that one guy kept sitting down by different women on the bus. Seconds later, the women abruptly got up and moved seats. I
didn't figure out was happening until the guy sat next to me
and started -- wait for it -- stroking my feet through my sandals.
was almost sweet in comparison to transit in Mexico City, so notorious
for unwanted sexual advances that the city started running "women-only" buses.
My sister and I once got on a subway car so jam-packed we literally were grinding with the people in front and behind us. Once the
train got moving I asked my sister why she was rhythmically pushing up
against me. "Lauren, you have no idea what's going on right
now," she responded. The man behind her was dry-humping her, which, on such a packed
train car, created the chain effect of her humping me, me humping the
person in front of me, and so on and so on. A mass orgy on rails.
At least that was funny.
I thought perhaps such things would end in San Francisco, but it turns
out the city's sex-positive vibe continues to its rails and