[Let me paint this picture for you.]

I'm sitting at MOCT on a Saturday night. This doesn't strike one as unusual considering this is where I am most Saturday nights. MOCT is a nice place, its a bar constructed of an Old double door garage. You walk in the front doors and straight ahead theres the dance floor, its outlined by four long wooden built in benches where drunken girls usually take to dancing, or drunken boys usually take to sulking. To your immediate left is the DJs, probably Asher,[or in this case definitely Asher] To the right of the DJs, some provocative Film is screening against the wall stimulating the girls, or if its football,[and in this case it is] stimulating the boys. Turn further right and you'll reach the bar littered with fancy dressed businessmen and high heeled stellas, probably underage. The night usually starts off slow, not to many dancers except the few who catch themselves swaying or thrusting, embarrassed and red faced. But for the sake of the story I'll move ahead a few hours, one half hour before bar close, and I'm sitting at MOCT on a Saturday night.Cara is up with Asher watching his last set, taking notes with her mind for DJschool. I'm realizing theres no one really to hang with, everyones either to drunk, to unfamiliar or the guy who talks way to close to my face. And these red shoes are really starting to hurt. around ten minutes later I'm sitting on one of the four vacant benches and a trio of guys pass by. The first passes unnoticed, at a normal pace, nothing unusual here.[Heres where it gets tricky.]The second... the second, passes by and RUNS HIS FINGERS THROUGH MY HAIR while still in motion. uhhhThen the third takes up the back, completely unaware of any foul play or hand misplacement. The three men pass, none of which even look in my direction let alone pretend to notice I'm there, and get lost in the crowd. I don't know if you're getting the full effect of this, it was a forehead to back of neck drive-by hand hair combing.Keep in mind that We've been dancing since eleven O'clockish and I have a lot of gross sweaty hair at this point. I sit there alone, mouth mildly open, at a loss for words. We finish out the night dance some more, avoid some fights, the closingbar mayhem, and take our leave.So I ask you this. When is it ok to run your fingers through a strange girls hair?