Real Encounters

*Being sexually harrassed by a stranger*

A few years ago, I was travelling back home after spending a weekend in London, visiting some friends. The last leg of my journey involved me taking a connecting train from Birmingham New Street. A huge station, always bustling with commuters, this particular day was no different, even for a Sunday. My previous train from Euston had been crammed full of people, so I was thankful that when I boarded my train at Birmingham, it was relatively quiet. The seats were all unreserved so I chose the first pair of seats I came to, right near the exits. I popped my headphones on and stretched out, ready to just zone out for the 40 minute journey home.

About 5 minutes before we were due to depart, a large man carrying a huge duffle-bag walked into my carriage and sat in the seat next to mine, placing the bag across his knees. My initial thought was to be a little disgruntled. There were plenty of empty seats in the carriage, so why had he chosen the one seat which was next to somebody else? Also, why hadn't be put his bag on the luggage rack? They were empty, and it would have made it easier for both of us as now, I was all squashed over next to the window, with his arms resting on top of his bag, elbows facing outwards.

Maybe he was only travelling for a stop or two. Maybe I was just overly grumpy and unreasonable from a day of hungover travelling. I decide to just continue my plan to listen to podcasts and zone out - albeit, in a more squished up manner than I had originally intended.

The train sets off, I am trying to ignore being jostled up against him as the train makes its natural jolts and movements. I don't like strange people being in my personal space, but this is public transport so it happens and you just have to cope with it.

Seriously though, of all the places this enormous guy could have chosen to sit, why did he did next to me? What was in his bag that deemed it impossible for him to put it on an empty luggage rack? Was it my imagination or was his left elbow making uncomfortably regular contact with the side of my my right boob? No. don't be silly. It was just due to the positioning of his arms, and the movement of the train. Ignore it.

I tried to anyway. But once I had this realisation, every single brush against that area of my body was amplified. At this stage, I was still convinced that I was imagining things, but as the train headed under a tunnel, the pitch black turned the window into a mirror, of sorts. I glanced at the reflection, and what I saw immediately made me feel sick and scared and helpless. The man was smiling, and moving his elbow in small but visible circular motions against my boob.

Immediately, I coughed, and shifted my weight so that I was further away from him, crossing my right leg over my left and folding my arms in-front of me to create a futile little barrier against him. This seemed to put him off his task, and he moved his hands underneath his bag instead.

A few minutes pass, a few more stops to small, local stations are made. I start to relax a little, convincing myself that it was all just a misunderstanding. However, part of me is still hyper aware of what he is doing, and so when his left hand starts to touch and tickle my right leg, I'm just filled with a kind of clammy, disgusted horror that this is happening.

I always imagined how I would cope if something like this happened to me. In my head, I would grab the guy's hand and say something sassy and devastating and the guy would crumble and run off in shame, and everyone in the surrounding area would cheer and high-five me for being so assertive and ballsy. Yeah, this wasn't happening now. As far as I could tell, we were alone in the carriage. I am a tiny girl, and I am crushed up against a train window while a physically intimidating guy is touching me up and having a lovely old time of it. What if he doesn't let me off at my stop? What if he follows me? Please let somebody walk by and see what is happening and let them help me.

Eventually, I didn't have to worry about either of those scenarios. His stop came, he removed his hand, lifted up his bag, stood up and smiled at me.

'Thank you.' Is all that he said before he exited the carriage.

I felt sickened and sad and angry and pathetic. This is the day when I realised I'm not as assertive or strong as I thought I was.