Wednesday, July 20

Tonight I was taking the subway home from the West end, and because my new purse is too small for my iPod I borrowed a book to read on the long subway ride home. (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, if you were wondering.) And so I am sitting in a somewhat empty car and reading for a few stops when the guy sitting a few spots down turns to me. He says something about Canadian Idol as he holds up an ad for it on the back of a newspaper and is rambling "don't you look like this girl Emily but ooh better and..." and then suddenly he is sitting beside me.

And he's rambling on and on, and looking intently at me. In his mid thirties, a little crazy-eyed, laughing in a half-nervous and half-I'm-too-stupid-to-do-anything-other-than-laugh sort of way. Wearing an army cameo tee, black jeans, and a black long coat. A baseball hat. And he's saying a lot of nothing.

Buddy doesn't stop talking my ear off, despite that I am leaning away from him, barely replying to his comments, and focusing hard on the pages of my book in an over-emphasised attempt at reading. I make the mistake of turning to an illustrated page, and he leans over to look at it.

There is no TTC operator in my car. At every station I consider running out and to the next car, but I picture him leering at me through the windows. So I just keep counting down the stops until I can escape. A man gets on and sits across from us. I can tell he recognizes that I am being bothered, but he keeps to himself.

Yes yes, technically, a creeper on the subway isn't much of a big deal. I was just so annoyed I had to sit though a mock conversation for so many stops, when I wasn't interested at all in talking to buddy. He also asked me if I was in high school. HIGH SCHOOL! Like what type of special are you if you think late night chatting with high schoolers is acceptable?

I clarified my age and then refused to tell him what university I went to when he asked. I need some better ways to tell people to bugger off, clearly.