I don't believe this. You know how it seems like every day some pervert exposes himself to some unsuspecting chick on the subway? Well, something far worse happened to me. And like those women, I'm empowering myself by putting the perpetrator's picture online and warning people to watch out for this guy.

WATCH OUT FOR THIS GUY!


No, he didn't expose himself to me. Hell, that wouldn't have been nearly as bad. I mean, indecent exposure is kind of like being pawed at by a puppy: sometimes it's nice to know you're appreciated, but other times you're hot and you're tired and all you can think of is, could you please get that thing out of my face? In both cases, though, you give the thing a healthy shove and usually it'll back up enough to give you room to breathe.

No, what this guy did was far, far worse, and there was absolutely nothing I could do.

I was on the bus yesterday when this rather unassuming man got on and took the seat across from me. He watched the scenery go by for a minute or two, and then apparently deciding it wasn't entertaining enough he jammed a finger up his nose.

And dug. And dug, and dug. If there'd been milk up his nose, he'd be sneezing butter right now.

Now, if there's one thing New Yorkers are good at, it's ignoring disgusting people. If we weren't world class champions at this, we'd have flung ourselves under subway trains about three seconds after we arrived. I kept my face aimed at the window and let the man root around in peace.

Maybe five minutes later, though, a cute young girl got on. She was maybe fifteen, with dark hair and a clear complexion. "Hey, Stephanie!" the guy called to her. "What are you doing here?"

And as she approached, he put his hand out for a shake.

I swear to God, it was like time stood still. She reached out in slow motion for that hand. She didn't know where it had been, but I sure did. Frantic thoughts pingponged in my head. Should I warn her? Should I scream? Am I going to spew up that taco I had for lunch?

In the end, dear reader, I did nothing, and today I'm trying to deal with the guilt. But this guy wasn't any different from all the others, right? We've all got gross crap on our hands. If we haven't been picking our noses, we've been drilling our ears or idly scratching our groins.

Still, I'm pretty sure which direction I'm headed when my time finally comes. Which, I think, is best. I mean, Saint Peter would probably get pissed if I refused to shake his hand, but I'll bet Satan's cool with a fist bump.