Sunday morning, Den-en-toshi line, first train. After a night of birthday partying, darts, billiards, and roaming the streets with the other poor tired fuckers at 4 a.m., we finally secured some sweet corner seats on the slow local ride home and fell into a lazy doze as the train chugged its way west and south.
I woke up, confused, five or six stops later. I couldn't figure out why, for a second, then I felt something touching the outside of my thigh. Still sleepy, eyes closed, I wondered what was happening. A few seconds later, it couldn't be denied: I was being felt up by a chikan, a pervert.
After a few seconds of making sure and getting my bearings, I opened my eyes, turned to him, and loudly said,
"NO. DON'T DO THAT. DAME!!!"
Bordering on shouting.
Freaked out, frazzled, he nodded meekly and then stumbled out of the train car, dropping his wallet on the way and fumbling to retrieve it as he retreated. He was young, early twenties, maybe 23.
This is my second time being felt up on the Den-en-toshi line, which, I'm told, is full of hentai, along with the Chuo line. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to deck him, rip off his nipples, or haul his ass to the station police, but in my vulnerable confused state, it was all I could do to shout at him. In that state of mind, I couldn't even summon more than basic Japanese and yelled at him in English. My message was clear, but it's easy to talk about what you would do when you're not in the situation.
Next time. Next time there will be a man with severe damage to his family jewels.