Next time I get molested on the bus…

There are many drunken Finnish men in this country. In fact, alcohol-related deaths were the leading number of deaths of Finnish men in 2005. They beat out heart attacks and composed 17.1% of males who died between the age of 15 and 64. Alcohol-related deaths made up 10.6% of female deaths. It’s a major problem, perhaps a national crisis.

Maybe this is a little morbid, but most people who die alcohol-related deaths have to drink an awful lot for an awfully long time before they die. These are the people who I’m talking about. They are magnetically attracted to me on the bus and on the train. They stumble onto the bus and inevitably right over to the empty seat next to me. They sit closer than any other Finnish demographic would deem appropriate, and then they talk to me. They not only speak loudly, but they exhale their horrific, vodka-laden breath right into my facial space bubble. It’s always men and they’re always drunk.

I don’t normally like to generalize but I will not put up with one more disgusting, drooling, perverted, drunk man sitting next to me on the bus. I’m sure there are many honorable, disgusting drunk men in this world, but they are no longer welcome to sit next to me on the bus. “This seat is now taken, and don’t mess with me because I will take your drunk ass down if you even try to sit here! One of your disgusting, drunk brothers ruined it for all of you. No more Ms. Nice Guy."

A drunk man grabbed my ass on the bus today. This particular disgusting, drunk man had me cornered as he kept asking me something in Finnish over and over with his vodka breath. I was trapped. I was publicly uncomfortable.

It was a little irritating that no one helped me in this potentially dangerous situation. No one said “oh that’s weird. Someone’s talking loudly. And that woman looks like she’s struggling. I don’t believe in letting men molest women so I’ll ask if she needs help.” I was on my own.

After what seemed like an eternity, my stop came. Thank God! I was dying to get away from this smelly, slobbery, drunk man. I dramatically pushed the “stop” button to indicate that he needed to scoot over so I could get out. The man didn’t appear to speak English. He was having trouble with Finnish as well.

As I got up to leave, he grabbed my ass! I turned around and I screamed at him. “Don’t touch me!” While it was quite noticeable on that bus, it wasn’t harsh enough. As it turns out, I’m not very quick-witted after being molested on the bus. However, I’ve never heard anyone scream on the bus before. In fact, I haven’t heard anyone scream in public anywhere in Tampere. Even though he was drunk, his jaw dropped. He gasped.

And then I realized that I had hit the stop button too early. Darn! I got off anyway and walked to my destination.

Here’s what I should have done: I should have stayed on the bus and yelled at the drunk man for the next few blocks until we got to my stop. I should have said “Don’t grab my ass. This is my ass and I don’t want you to touch it!” I should have kept yelling loudly in his face about how cowardly and perverted he was. And then I should have gotten off the bus and left him to drunkenly deal with the situation. How many women have had to put up with this man grabbing their ass? Probably a lot, and he’s probably never had to face a single one of them. I hate ass grabbers.

If you want to die an alcohol-related death, you’re in the right country to do it. Your country will provide you with food, shelter and medical care until you kick the bucket. But don’t sit next to me on the bus. Don’t talk to me, and don’t grab my ass!