That Awkward Feeling When Someone Starts Masturbating in Public
I’ve got this aesthetically-gifted friend, Leggie Blonde. She’s the kind of girl you’d bring along to India as travel insurance; the type who’d fetch you some serious dowry moolah should the need arise. You could probably get a couple of cows for each of her glistening blue eyeballs. And if you’re still not convinced of her monetary value, you’ll be pleased to know that she’s basically been road-tested. Spending some quality time in the great subcontinent, it was oft that she copped an unwanted thigh stroke or the casual marriage proposal. Oh yes, and then there was that one time she was #blessed with an exclusive view of her taxi driver’s bare, pulsating cock.
Initially, her story came as a bit of a shock to me. Ranked against the traditional juvenile brown-eye or playful tit-flash, flopping one’s dick out for an unappreciative audience of one passenger seemed a little antisocial. But as time has progressed, I’ve come to find that this was no isolated event; maybe this guy was just jumping on a bandwagon that I hadn’t yet heard of. Or maybe he’s the driver of said bandwagon, another of India’s countless entrepreneurs.
Having heard of her experiences and heading off to India myself, I was perhaps a little prepared for it when a guy whipped out his penis and started wanking outside our train carriage window. While we were swift to close the shutters, it soon became apparent that this sisterfucker was no novice. We were no match to his fidgety little fingers that managed to unlock the latch from outside and draw that blind right back up. After what felt like a very long time of watching a guy wank at us, our train finally set into motion… though any restfulness was short-lived.
He reappeared without warning – this time inside the carriage – anchoring himself to the foot of our bunks and continuing with a vigour that would earn him a gold should wanking ever become a professionally recognised sport. Zipped to our necks in sleeping bags, we could have easily been mistaken for epileptic caterpillars as we struggled furiously to get on our feet and avoid becoming target practice for this guy’s imminent load. There must have only been seconds to spare when a stranger came to our rescue, picked up our new friend up and tossed him – phallus swinging – out the door of the now hurtling train. India ay?
But the tendency to get one’s dick out on transport is not just an “India thing”: this shit is trending in Melbourne’s CBD right now. It’s absurdly common these days to waltz into a conversation about wanking on trams/trains/buses. New anecdotes are added so frequently to the collection that it’s probably got its own section in all major bookstores: “Yeah some guy wanked over my sister’s shoulder on the tram the other day. She switched seats and he just moved onto the next girl.” “My train stopped between stations last week. No one knew why. Turns out the driver had taken all of his clothes off and was rubbing one out mid-journey.”
Soon enough, the stories will be coming out in first person: “Ugh, it’s just been one of those mornings. First I dropped my coffee after one fucking sip, then I accidentally jizzed all down my front on the tram to work.” The shock factor of these stories is starting to wane, and that’s a problem for those of us who prefer to sit on a bus and not have to check for a knob at our ear. We already spend the majority of our journey keeping a watchful eye out for potential undercover ticket inspectors; we don’t want to be on the lookout for potential train wankers as well.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that all use of genitals on transport should be scrapped; as always, there are exceptions to the rule. Perhaps topping these exceptions is a global favourite, The Mile High Club. At 16 years old, a friend of mine had a romantic encounter with a new love beneath a complementary aeroplane blanket (they met at boarding gate 12 – so romantic). While she now shudders at the memory of what she once penned in her journal as an “absolute hottie with a killer rat’s tail”, it’s always a fantastic ice breaker in a game of Never Have I Ever. And if material for that game isn’t a good enough excuse to get your genitals out – transport or no transport – I don’t know what is. Basically, there is a time, a place and of course the requirement of all parties’ consent.
So next time you’re on any kind of transport and envisage a prospective cumrag in the form of a train curtain or the sleeve of an adjacent passenger, simply jump off at the next stop and head home to sort your situation – and more generally, your life – out. Let’s cum together and put this trend to bed before it turns into the next ice bucket challenge.
Cover by DLAF