Beware of the Masturbator on Local German Trains

A funny thing happened on the way to Wiesbaden today. And by funny, I really mean disgusting and kind of scary.

I flew into Dusseldorf, and I got on the first available trip to Wiesbaden. Because I was buying my ticket last minute (thank you for that, American Airlines), I was stuck with an $80 fare on the high-speed train or about half that if I took the local trains. The local trains had only one connection instead of two, so aside from the lower cost, it was an easier route.

On my first train ride, somewhere between Bonn and Andernach, I notice a creepy guy walking up and down the aisle. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a yellow cap and had no bags with him. He looked to be about late 20 or 30. This train is basically in the middle of nowhere at this point and most other passengers have departed, which is why I found it especially weird that he had so much trouble settling down. But weirder still was how he made eye contact when he walked by. It was not friendly eye contact, but creepy rapist eye contact.

This train car was basically empty so it was a major red flag when we sits across the aisle in the seat opposite me, which faces me. I realize that he’s definitely staring at me, and I try not to make eye contact. But I can see his reflection in the window and the fact that he can’t take his hands off his junk. So I figure this guy either has a severe case of jock itch or he’s trying to masturbate on this train next to me.

At some point, he moves to the seat across from him, still on the other side of the aisle but now were both facing the same direction. I can see his reflection in the window, and the definite hard-on under his sweatpants. In case I was confused, he sticks his hand in his pants and then proceeds to take out his dick and jack it like there’s no tomorrow. I don’t react – because that’s what he wanted – even though I could see the whole thing through the window. To be honest, I don’t know how I would have even reacted. Probably something like this:

confused face

Or this…

Gross face

He eventually gets up and walks away, but he keeps stalking up and down the aisle and watching me from the end of the train car. At this point, I’m thinking I am definitely alone in this car and this frotteur may actually be a rapist. He steps away from my sight again, so I take the opportunity to call the emergency number (110 in Germany). I’m trying to whisper because I don’t know where he is. And this is how that conversation went.

Me: Hi, do you speak English?

Operator: A little bit, yes.

Me: I’m on a train from Dusseldorf to Koblenz and there’s a man here touching himself.

Operator: And what is the problem?

Me: ….

Operator: How can we help you?

Me: I guess you can’t.

I hung up. To be fair, she probably misheard me and I didn’t want to raise my voice in case he could hear me, especially since there was no one else in there to hear me yell for help if he reacted badly to that phone call. I kept my phone out ready to dial again, and at some point he walked from behind me, a little frantically, probably when he realized that I was dialing the cops. I didn’t see him again after that.

I moved to another car with two other people in it. And when I deboarded, I kept a lookout for him, but didn’t see him. I assume he got off (no pun intended) at some other station once he noticed that I wasn’t oblivious to his pitiful display of public indecency.

I was joking all morning about hitchhiking to Wiesbaden, and thinking back on it, that may have been a better option. If you’re a solo female traveler going to some random town in Germany (or anywhere in the world for that matter), you might want to make sure you stay within eyesight of other passengers to avoid a scenario like mine. Or you might want to pull some Lisbeth Salander shit and gut him right there on the train. Sadly I didn’t have the right tools for that with me.

I felt a little shaken only when I thought he might follow me off the train in some desolate train station, but once the potential danger passed, so did my concern. I have no lasting trauma from his fidgety masturbation. I’ve seen a penis before, so I wasn’t all that impressed. And I pity a man who has such little self control over his sexual impulses. That was an unfortunate 15 minutes for me, but it’s a lifetime of torment and shame for him. That’s its own karma.

Despite that little incident, the train ride was still worth it; the views along the Rhine are stunning. And now I can say that I’ve experienced a live dick pic. It’s just as gross and underwhelming as it sounds.

Rhine river