Coming from a Caribbean culture where the eyes and facial expressions in communication is just a potent as words and hand gestures’ I find myself in an unexpected situation that required I access those very innate practices.
On the last leg of my journeyed commute to work
I sat in the crowded bus to work doing some entertainment reading "Never Love A Lawman" by Jo Goodman. When the automated system announced the third to last stop to my destination and then stopped to pick up passengers. I closed my tablet, put it in my bag and sat back till my stop.
Passengers boarded the bus amongst them was a young man in his late 20s to early 30s who stood at first off to the side of me. I will call him Mr. No Words. I smelt him before I saw him. People shuffled around making room for more passengers and Mr. No Words ended up directly in front of me. I looked up briefly, one because the scent seemed closer and two to acquaint myself to those around me. Mr. No Words looked like he smelt, as if he’d rolled out of bed after not showering the night before and left the house without changing or showering. His camouflage three quarter shorts and stained white T-shirt were wrinkled and he had crust in his eyes and bridle drool on the left corner of his mouth. He looked straight ahead. The bus was packed. I quickly scanned the crowd around me mentally assessing the best exit plan for when I reached my stop. I surmised since I was closest to the front door I would exit there. I gauged roughly how much people I'd have to weave myself through and sat back patiently.
As I sat mentally organizing my work day I suddenly felt it, a slight pressure on my left knee. I registered it but dismissed it as the bus made a jerky stop start. Then, I felt it again, only the pressure was more significant and the bus was driving smoothly. I became a bit uncomfortable and thought, 'is he deliberately pushing on my knee?' I advised myself to pay attention and if it is indeed what I suspected then I would deal with it. No sooner had I finish the thought when I felt even more pressure pushing on my left knee tenfold, then a pull back and a hard push again and again. The bus was at a traffic light not moving. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I set my face and deliberately looked while slowly casing his whole body noting his budding erection. I met his eyes and lustful leer fiercely with what my daughters call "The Dead Face" and "Do Not Fuck with me eyes." Mr. No Words backed off and back down immediately. I rang the bell for my stop. I looked up at him again dead face and got up from my seat. He moved back and to the far side where he first stood ensuring our bodies would not touch, so much so that he was squeezing himself. I laughed inwardly but kept a serious outer demeanor as I maneuvered my way through the crowd and out the bus. I did not look back.
I hate dealing with that shit.
Chuck it up to another day in the life of a city commuter.
Author: D.S.B.S.Rhapsody©All rights reserved.