A late Saturday night I took the last available metro. It was the opposite way, but the line being u-shaped I figured I would just walk home from the closest station to mine. It was around midnight, there wasn’t anyone around (it was a semi-residential area) and I was carrying a lot of stuff but it was summer, so I figured it would be a nice walk anyway. I walked for about 5 minutes when, coming the opposite way, a taxi noticed me. He flashed his lights and honked at me. I waved at him. Why not? He turned his car around and open the front door for me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, my hands were full and I was tired. The driver was chatty and wanting to be polite, I engaged in the conversation. It was all nice when he stared to smell my hair. He did this repeatedly. I laughed nervously, trying to steer the conversation away from how nice he thought I smelled. Then, at a red light, he told me he was really happy in Canada and he hugged me. He didn’t try to grope or do anything else, but that was enough to scare me. I had never feared for my life more than I did at that moment. We finally got to my place and I was relieved to see that the lights were still on; my roommate was still awake. I gave the driver a $20 ( way over the value of the fare) and bolted out of the taxi as fast as I could. I haven’t taken a taxi alone at night since then.
