You know they say that life is like a box of chocolates because you never know what your going to get. There is rhyme and reason to both. But the element of shock and horror is upon me because even this chocolate that I unknowingly picked, took me utterly by surprise.
He passed by me the exact same way, the same time each and every day. He brushes pass me and rubs my leg, but he does it in a way that it seems accidental, even though my gut told me this approach was purposeful. It became routine, this supposed accidental brush against me on the train. It seemed harmless really, but my curiosity was brewing. The last time, I decided to go against him before he got me. I said, “excuse me but you keep brushing up against my leg as your passing by and I was wondering if there was anything you had to say to me like I’m sorry perhaps?” He was caught, off guard of course and totally not expecting me to say anything. He said, “you always sit in this spot and it’s a tight spot at that. I have to pass here on the way to the booth. It’s my work bag thats tapping your leg though, but I apologize all the same.” We had a good laugh about the mistaken fake feel, and became fast friends after that. Everyday on the train we would talk and laugh about politics, the kids of today, our jobs, and a variety of things. The same time and place everyday we’d cut up on the train. I thought he was a nice man, and took him as nothing more than the conductor on the train. I was a little sad the day he told me he’d be driving another train in another part of town and we probably wouldn’t see each other again. The days leading up to his last, we shared lots of laughs, and swapped stories of our kids and how much food they consumed, continuing with our normal routine of funny chitter chatter. The last day of his tour as conductor on my train, he told me he enjoyed our laughs and he had something for me. I saw it was a card, but he made me promise not to open it until I got off the train. I tossed it in my bag, said my goodbyes and went on my way. Later that night, I remembered the card and I retrieved it from my bag and tore it open.
Shock, horror, and disgust overwhelmed me. The card read, “Dear Sexy Rider, thanks for letting me brush up against you everyday, it was thrilling feeling you up, and watching you think it was nothing at the same time. I had visions of sexing you daily on the train, in my booth, screaming my name, driving me wild. I wanted you to plant passionate kisses with those fat juicy lips yours and I wanted to suck your neck too. If I had the time I would take advantage and punish you until you were blue in the face. Oh well, maybe in the next lifetime. Yours truly, Mr. Conductor”
I felt so dirty, so used, and so violated. I immediately began to panic, realizing, I didn’t even know the man’s name. All I ever called him was Mr. Conductor. It was the weirdest weird, the grosses gross and I simply couldn’t deal. The next morning I went crazy obsessing over who this man was, how I could report him and what, if anything I could or should do. In the end I made some phone calls and ultimately turned the evidence over. I don’t know what happened to him, nor do I care but, if I ever see him again, even after all these years, I would lay him low and wide. From then on, I don’t allow mixed boxes of chocolates in my space. The chocolates I select are all the same kind. That way there is no misunderstanding. And if someone happens to routinely brush me on the train, I am finding another train to move on to with the quickness. A feel is a feel. And I won’t doubt my gut again.
A true life short