Tales From the Metro

So this week was our triumphant return to the world of English teaching, and we were certainly eager to begin work again after a very boring weekend. Monday went off without a hitch, just another day to add to the books, but this morning started off just a little uncomfortably for me (Allie).

On Tuesdays and Thursdays I have to take a rather long metro ride to one end of Rome for my lessons, and for someone who loves people watching, the metro is a wonderful place full of strange people doing even stranger things. This particular morning would prove to be no different.

As usual the train was packed with commuters heading to work at 8am, and so I found myself standing near the door and holding onto one of the rails that extends from the floor of the train to the ceiling. As I was standing there I noticed a man who didn't exactly look homeless, but he could have been. His hair was dirty and scraggly, he was several days overdue for a shave, and he was missing most of his teeth. He seemed normal enough at first, as I watched him ask another man when he would be exiting the train (as he was blocking the door and would need to move for the man to get off).

A few stops later, as the train began to slowly empty itself, there was no one left between me and this man. He moved so that he could lean against the seats near the pole I was grasping so that the side of his head was about 6 inches from my hand. As the train moved, I noticed that he was swaying a bit as he tried to stand there without holding onto anything for support. "Ok," I thought, "He's drunk at 8am, that explains the rough appearance." No big deal. Rome, like any city, has it's share of alcoholics, and as someone who uses public transportation I am accustomed to seeing them.

Being the polite girl that I am I tried not to stare at his dirty hair and instead focused my gaze on the wall of the train car. Very soon I could see in my peripheral vision that the man was now staring right at me very intently. This was uncomfortable for obvious reasons, but I tried to ignore it. He continued his swaying back and forth, his head slowly moving towards and away from my hand. The next thing I know this man is not swaying, but intently moving his head towards my hand with his lips puckered! I reacted quickly and moved my hand away before his nasty mouth could reach my delicate skin, and as I moved I shot him a look that said, "If you even touch me I will knock your one remaining tooth right out of your head!" The look seemed to say enough and he sort of smiled ashamedly and moved his position so he was facing the doors.

Just to be on the safe side I moved away from him as well, but my entire morning was filled with awful what-if fantasies regarding all the possible diseases I could have contracted from just a second-long touch by that creep!