From our commenter Senor_Wences: "A female coworker at a previous job told me this story: She was out late and drunken at a post-work cocktail thingie, then began her long subway ride from Midtown to Brighton Beach or Sheepshead Bay or wherever the hell way down there she lived.

So, she passed out, as drunken girls do. She came to just as a "homeless" man was about to finish in her face. The doors were open and she ran out, up the stairs, and a cop happened to be there on the street. She was breathlessly telling her tale, when the cop recognized her.

Turned out they'd gone to high school together. She found herself saying, yeah, yeah, things are great, I'm doing good!

Thinking to herself, I'm a person who passed out on the subway at four in the morning with some stranger jerking off on me, and feeling the lie that was her life.

I wish I'd stayed in touch with her. She drank a lot."