As usual, the train was pulling up just as I was making it to the station door. I started jogging past people and headed for the escalator. Just as I began running up the escalator a spray of water starts leaking from above. Luckily I have enough room to dodge most of it but my left hand gets soaked. I rush up the rest of the escalator to find an older man, well dressed, standing in the corner between the plexiglass divider and the escalator wall. I stare at him, he stares back, and just as the train pulls up he leaves his corner and begins zipping up his pants.
He boards the same el car as me with his mother and gets off two stops later.
I think I was just peed on. I sat staring straight ahead out the window, not sure of what to do next. I can't read my magazine and forget about it, I can't even speak. Should I go home and change all my clothes? I just keep staring straight ahead.
I got to work and took off my jacket which was my only means of wiping my hand off, that and a bottle of lotion (I will now not leave the house without hand sanitizer). I scrubbed my hand red and put on my uniform before seeking advice in my managers who are just as horrified. "Write this down and tell Tina Fey about it!" One chimes in.
"You always make city living sound so glamorous!" Whiskey-Pants commented.
That I do, that I do.