Dusseldorf in Photos and a Sad Story

Dusseldorf in Photos

Dusseldorf is the most boring city until about 6 o'clock. Then it gets really really not boring.

A Sad Story

Now, this blog is meant to be a tale of the whimsy, magic and wonder of adventure. For adventure is indeed whimsical, magical and wonderful. But then, sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's scary and kind of messed up. So I'm now going to write about something very unpleasant. I encourage those of my readers who don't want to experience the unpleasantness to read no further.

I pondered for a long time over whether I should include this story in my blog. I didn't want its negativity to ruin the otherwise superbness that this trip has been. But something is telling me that this is important to share. Maybe the knowledge that this kind of thing happens will empower a future victim to react better and faster than I did. If I'd recovered faster from my shock, I could have, and should have, left my seat and found an alarm button to press. I could have, and should have, snapped a photo of this guy so that I could actually have something to take to the police, so that they could arrest him and keep him from doing it again.

Zelda Stormcrow Dreamchaser? She would have chased him down and kicked his teeth in.

As it happened, I was not prepared, and here is my story.

You're a young lady heading southbound on the S6 from Düsseldorf to Köln. You're almost half done your trip through Europe, and you're on top of the world. Adele is singing her classic tunes to you thanks to Apple Inc. Little do you know that as soon as your car empties save for you and one other man, that man is going to pull his penis out across the aisle from you and start masturbating, trying to get you to look over at him as he does. You listen furiously to the songs on your iPod and pretend the rolling countryside outside the window fascinates you, pretend that Adele's songs have you so enthralled you can do nothing at all but casually bob your foot to the beat, as in the corner of your eye, the man continues to beat his rod and say, "Hallo? Hallo?" to you. Your alarm increases when he moves a seat closer and leans toward you, still trying to get your attention. You look down and can watch your shirt twitch over your heart because it's pounding so hard. The smell of semen makes you want to vomit.

At last, he disappears. You scarce dare to hope as you glance at the seat he just vacated. Your head swings around and your chest fills with relief as you see other people's faces populate the train. It's over, he's gone. Or is he? You spend the rest of the train ride staring suspiciously at the faces of the men in the train, wondering if it's him, if he stayed on the train to watch you calm yourself down, take a swig of water, try to keep from shaking so much. You wonder if you were in danger a moment ago. You can tell the other passengers nearby are wondering why that girl just wiped a few tears from her eyes.

You just got sexually harassed. How did it feel?

Another reason to have included this story is its conclusion. I got off the train, walked through the crowded streets of Cologne, was directed to a box office by smiling desk attendants, bought a ballet ticket for tomorrow night from a smiling ticket saleswoman, was served a strange pizza-like food and wonderful Cologne beer by a smiling server. And I smiled too.

The End.

PS: Go f*** yourself, man. And not in public this time.