Stranger Danger

Today I had the single creepiest thing happen to me ever.

I was walking down a very busy street on Beacon Hill. Broad daylight. Some people, including myself, are waiting to cross a side street. This group includes myself, and a man we'll call Mr. Purple. Mr. Purple because that is the color of the woman's coat he is wearing. Now I could just as well have named him Mr. Second-hand-knitted-floppy-hat, or Mr. filthy-lime-green-scarf, but they just don't have the same ring.

coming out of the side street arrives a pickup truck. This would be nothing out of the ordinary, had the driver not begun honking furiously, before both occupants flip Mr. Purple the bird, make the turn, and disappear.

I'm left thinking to myself: sure he has worse fashion sense than Helen Keller in a good will store, but hey, there are plenty of people around who don't exactly read Vogue.

So, lead by your intrepid narrator, Mr. Purple, Innocent Bystander, and her dog, crossed the street. Nothing exciting.

Now, as not to be late, I am walking fairly fast. About a block later, I get the undeniable sense of someone being in my bubble. You know the feeling. I slow down to let this person pass me.

This is the point where this story starts being the creepiest encounter of my life.

Mr. Purple slows down too. I know it's Mr. Purple because he's walking directly beside me staring into my ear. So I slow down even more. We're now moving at a speed outside of the 95th percentile of pedestrian speeds. He doesn't get the hint. So I stop dead.

"Hi"

I do my best to compress "Get away from me, creep" into a simple "Hi", but not so much.

So we start walking again. Along the most unsettling block of my life. It becomes more awkward at the end as I have to make a left turn across his path. Which I do with my ninja skills. I decide to give it half a block before I look back. I make eye contact with Innocent Bystander, who gives me a look like 'wtf?'. No sign of Mr. Purple. Now, it should also be noted that this too is a well traveled street.

Maybe fifteen seconds later, my bubble sense is tingling again.

Mr. Purple is standing inches from my left shoulder. I will never forget the following utterance: "I just want to say, you have a nice chest." Now, this might be an altogether forgettable utterance if I wasn't a guy, or even if I had some nice pecs or something. Or if he didn't reach over and give my sternum a nice rub.

What. The. Fuck.

That's what I said when I pushed him.

Now, since he's just an ordinary creeper, he walked away like no street harassment had happened.

I don't really know what to think about this, other than I really hope it doesn't happen again. If I carried it, I would have maced him right there. I can't really think of another time that anyone has ever invaded my personal space like that. I dont even know if it was sexual harassment or just garden variety harassment. It's about a hundred times creepier if it's the former.

Talk about things that make you go 'buhhh'.