My office has a shuttle service from our building to the first major subway station, about a 15 minute drive. This is a free service so when one of its elements comes up just under par, you kind of shrug it off and say, “At least it’s here.”

One of these things is, and granted this seems like it should be a biggie, is the driving. It is my understanding (I made this up to rationalise the behaviour) that the driver’s are on a strict schedule that doesn’t necessarily allow for varying traffic conditions. Because of this tight timeline, it is not uncommon for the drivers to manoeuvre the van in a crazy-ass way. I’m talking double digit lane changes in as many seconds, honking, yelling at other drivers, etc. Most passengers treat this shuttle service like a bus, and because of that no one wears seatbelts.

Many, many months ago after a particularly rough drive in, I decided that I would be wearing a seatbelt every time. This actually takes some strategizing, however, because there are only four seats (out of 12) where the seatbelt is easily accessible. The rest are either folded up inside the seats or connected to the door-side wall of the van, which is also the laneway where people walk to get to all the different benches. This means that those seatbelts are in multiple sections and require you to, essentially, build the belt while at the same time blocking the laneway. For this reason, only the non-door-wall side of the van has readily usable seatbelts. I try to sit on this side whenever possible so I can plug in for safety, which means being within the first few people to get in the van (because passengers inevitably don’t want to sit beside other people. This means each person who enters will choose an empty seat until there is no choice left but to sit beside someone else).

The other day I got a good seat and was trying to buckle up but, thanks to daylight savings, it was already quite dark and I couldn’t see anything when I looked down. (Let me mention here that the shuttle has advertising plastered all over the windows so no sunlight comes through, also there is no overhead bulb in this cave of a van.) Anyway, I am fumbling around with the seatbelt trying to find the plug and the woman next to me (about a foot and a half away) is watching me (looking down at the buckle area as well). After a few seconds I realise she’s watching so I laughingly say “It’s dark!” and she nods. This fella in the seat behind me says “It’s not that dark” and the woman says “Ya, she’s molesting me.” They laugh. Now, wait, what? I’m doing what?

Is this really a joke that we are making? That she made at my expense? I wasn’t even anywhere near her, why would she think of that? These people, whom I don’t even know and am certainly not friends with, think it’s okay to make molestation jokes. About me! These people are adults, too. The woman has to be at least 40 and the man, whom I only know from the shuttle, well, I already didn’t care for him.

I didn’t say anything to them because I didn’t know what to say. I successfully buckled up and spent the rest of the ride hoping that, in the event of a crash, their bodies—now dangerous projectiles—would avoid hitting me and anyone else with tact and good sense.