So I’ve been meaning to write about something that happened last weekend, and was just reminded by the fact that for the past HOUR, while I sat in the Caribou Coffee on 18th and M on a conference call, a man at a table near me stared (leered is more accurate) and eventually began touching himself and aiming his crotch toward me.

Given the angle I was sitting, and the fact that I was plugged into an outlet and in the middle of a work call, I could neither avoid seeing him nor move. Extremely uncomfortable, suffice it to say. This was a middle-aged man in fairly nice clothes – an Oxford shirt and khakis, with a gold watch and loafers. He made a pretense of reading a paper but every time I looked up from my computer he was staring at me, or some part of my body. Unfortunately, he left just before I did – I had already planned to say, on my way out, “Staring the way you were is incredibly rude, and I don’t think you’d want anyone staring at your daughter or sister the way you were at me.” A major understatement, mind you, but I thought it would get the point across and was as much as I was comfortable saying. I wish I had gotten the chance. I gave him a few nasty looks, but it was a very helpless feeling.

That wasn’t even the story I planned to tell, but now I’m a little worn out. Sheesh! Can’t a girl get a break?

Submitted by Meredith I. on 8/17/2011

Location: 18th and M St NW @Caribou Coffee House

Time of harassment: Evening Rush Hour (3:30P-7:30P)

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