New York Subways - The Good, The Okay, and the Pervy

Subway stories – all New Yorkers have them. They range from borderline scary to amusing or bleak. Many of these tales have the “you hadda be there” quality to them, but there are some that manage to transcend the now. A few of mine are downright silly in retrospect – for example, when I first came to New York in 1984 I actually smoked a cigarette at high noon standing on the platform of the A train. (Believe me when I say that is a stupid thing to do).

Generally the most famous of subway stories and the thrust of this post (no pun intended) have to do with perverts and the pervy things they like to do in an enclosed train carriage. The first time I was on the subway and groped I was so shocked I didn’t know what else to do other than freeze, try desperately to move out of the way (which didn’t work), and sweat bullets for 20 seconds until we reached my stop. But I was young then, and not only more timid in the city but less aware of my environment and deeply unaware that I had to define my personal space.

Tangent: When riding public transportation in an urban environment (and this holds for the Paris Metro and Chicago El) one must define one’s personal boundary, stick to it, and refuse to allow a stranger's body or belongings to intrude. It’s like constructing a plastic bubble around one’s self that, once donned, is very hard to breach.

Well, the next time an inquiring hand made contact, I adopted the very effective technique of “outing the perv”. I visibly jumped away from the man, looked at him straight in the eye, and very loudly said, “Stop it!”. (I may have also added a snarling expletive or two - I don't remember.) This is a good technique as the curious and/or disapproving glances of fellow passengers and their attention to what is going on stops a perv pretty quickly. One can also use this technique to stop the gray-haired man in the business suit and gold cufflinks who thinks it’s amusing to whisper obscenities to the young woman standing next to him reading her book and minding her business. No visible movement is required; merely a steely-eyed glare and a loud “shut the fuck up!” suffices for the white collar perpetrator.

Another good technique in my repetoire is the application of a pointed implement, such as the tip of a full-size umbrella, to the top of the offender’s foot. Simply look down, locate the offending shoe and apply direct pressure to the pointed implement in the form of one’s entire body weight for maximum effect. Bask silently (narrowing of eyes a la Diana Riggs optional) in the gasp of pain that ensues.

Beyond the pervs and indeed beyond the scope of this post, but something I must share, is the appearance on the subway of a genuine potential homocidial maniac. True story: I lived in Brooklyn years ago, and after a pleasant evening out with friends was riding home on the dreary F train. I was rather tipsy, but had my book in front of me and was faking reading so I wouldn't become drowsy. While the car wasn't crowded, every seat was full. As I'm tootling along in my own drunken world, I hear the man next to me sing under his breath, tunelessly and with no apparent emotion, over and over again, "I'm gonna get you, I'm gonna get you, I'm gonna kill you dead." Of course I didn't dare actually look at him, and I didn't think it would have been wise in my condition to attempt to bolt to the other end of the car. I just sat there, reading the same page, until he got off the train about 15 minutes later, much to my obvious relief. When he got off the train, a man across the car from me chuckled a little and said to me, "You really believed him, didn't you." I was only able to offer a strained laugh in return, but at least the knowledge that someone else knew what this guy was saying was its own relief.

I haven’t had to deploy the perv busting techniques in a number of years – I don’t believe it’s because the subways have suddenly become populated with the crème de la crème of accomplished society, but rather that I have perfected my privacy bubble. I never get into crowded trains where I'm more likely to come into uncomfortably close contact(another train will come along shortly), I always remain alert and aware to some degree, but I prefer to sink my attention into my book than make eye contact with anyone on the train.

Yet pervy is as pervy does and with the handy twin inventions of camera phones and the internet Crusaders Against The Inappropriate and Practically Criminal can do more about it than before. There's an entire website where women can post camera phone pics of men foistering inappropriate and unwelcome advances on them and highlight the male offenses:

Holla Back NYC

And if a particularly dense man thinks that he'll snag welcome female attention by having his photo posted on that website, well, score one for social Darwinism.