Monday, October 11, 2010

Flash Gordon

Today I had quite a weird experience. Half asleep from a late arrival last night and a disrupted sleep, walking back from a hospital where my very very beloved Greek grandma is very very ill, I detoured to pop into the local AB supermarket to get things to make dinner for the family.

As I was walking along the busy main road, half asleep and trying to cope with the fact that it was still only Monday, I heard a shout. So insinctively I looked. There, next to a main road and a bus stop was a guy facing me and the rest of the world with his pants around his ankles jerking off.


I just kept walking. I was shocked, sure, that's not what you expect to see so early on a Monday morning, but I wasn't scared since I was walking along a very busy road. Ok I was a little worried when I heard him shout after me again, not wanting his disgusting self to materialise infront of me for the money shot and so I walked a little faster.

Is it a worrying sign of our times that I didn't get all that upset? Maybe 21st Century living has removed the shock factor from such incidents, or maybe women today are better informed from an early age about these things happening. Or maybe I was too exhausted and upset about my Yiayia to care.

I went on to carry on with my morning as normal. On the scale of things, this was kind of unoriginal, pathetic and stupid and not as invasive as my run-in a few years back with a crotch grabbing jogger. Note that it was my crotch that was grabbed, not his. That was scary and upsetting.

But I did think later, while I was choosing between rictotta or cottage cheese, that I should have perhaps thrown something at him. Rocks were in plentiful supply along the path. But was a non-reaction better?

How have you dealt with such incidents if you've been unfortunate enough to deal with them?



Christine said...
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Anonymous said...

I'm sorry you had to deal with that, and when you were worried about your yiayia. (You didn't happen to get a good look at his face did you? It could've been George Michael. Not that you'd want his autograph or anything...)

I was once walking to the train station at 6.15 am (it was light) when this derro waif drug-stoned-looking dude (who'd probably been up all night looking at porn on his computer) rode up to me on his little BMX bike (the kind little kids ride in vacant lots and over dirt hillocks, the kind that look ridiculous under 20-year-old men wearing tracksuit pants and hoodies) said hi and proceeded to grab a handful of left breast before I managed to knock him away and run off, with shouts of, "Give us a root!" ringing in my ears for the whole next block. And this was in quiet, suburban Melbourne.

Not that you will, but lest you think this was invited behaviour, I am a dag who was wearing glasses, a tracksuit top and carrying a huge unsightly backpack on my back. It's sad but after 5 years I still haven't worn that same top in the neighbourhood since. You always think you're immune from these things until they happen to you and afterwards, you often become paranoid in the extreme.

The saddest part of all was that the bastard put me off my morning walk, just when I had started to get healthy. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be fat right now. Curse the bugger.

Hope this wasn't too long. God bless you love.