Two big men get on the train with seat slips, which are slid up under the number printed in the molding. They were from the delayed train, a big fat, soft hipster of 30 and a big Moari looking muscle guy with bald head and stentorian voice, a voice that did not have to be raised, but carried in a clear cadence that suggested the military NCO.

‘I didn’t think we were goin to make it, Brother,” says the badass as he swaggers next to Big Karen Barnstorm’s window seat #13 and places a tag for seat #48 towards the back. He drops his leather pack there, and then goes to his assigned seat.

Cough Karen Major says, “That is the wrong seat, look, he picked the wrongs seat!”

The big brunette looks at the studly man as he struts elbows out to the back and says, “As long as I get a seat buddy!” already ravished in her yearning mind’s eye.

The stentorian stud swaggers forward towards the viewing car.

The coach attendant, who sits in the back of the next car comes, and is a bitchy Latina who hates black and white men, stops by and sees the seat tag, removes it, places it where it hoes, and then considers the bag. Unattended and unmarked luggage is a potential terrorist threat. So, as Cough Karen Major rats on the stud, the attendant, not wanting a confrontation with him goes away.

The next stop has an elderly couple assigned to those seats, the woman taking Big Karen’s place and the man standing in the aisle, not willing o touch the bag and unsure if he should sit. Eventually, the attendant comes, seats him, takes the black bag forward with her and Cough Karen Major cheers her on.

On cue, Studly Stentorian returns and says, “Who molested my shit!?”

Cough Karen lights into him about seat assignments and he looks at her and says, “She didn’t tell me that. If anybody else touches my shit, their hands are getting cut off!”

He then gets his gear from the next car, glares around, struts, and goes back to the viewing car.

While I go to the viewing car and sit facing east, Studly Stentorain sits facing west holding court. A cute young lady, an environmental lawyer worships him from her liberal progressive well and he lectures on why Black lives matter is not for or about black people, that it is a race animosity grift, and that he blacks the blue. If anyone burns a flag around him, they will not walk away, and he has beat down flag burners before. He is a staunch conservative, an Ex-Marine, a Black belt in Muay Thai, a road racer born in Pallo Alto, California who is more concerned with, “Latino on Black Racism.”

Sissy men crowd around to worship, including a homo anti-pickup truck bicycle advocate from san Francisco, who Studly threatens to stomp. A big fat man want to sit between studly and his fetching female worshipper and Studly said, “You can’t sit there. I take up two seats. You can sit on my lap and I can burp you like a big baby.”

Everybody laughs uncomfortably.

He gives the young babe $50, tells to go down and get them a night cap and to keep the change. She obeys eagerly.

I leave the Court of Studly Stentorion.

Next morning, I enter the car and sit 5 seats from a young beauty, a good looking woman in her late 20s. Studly Sits between us and starts chatting her up, telling her, “I have run a security, political, military consulting firm for 26 years. Lost my ass, a million in liquidity in that shit in 2008 and I understand the importance of your job, that you are paid based on claims denied and that that keeps my insurance down.

The fine lady does down stairs to get coffee and a little grating voiced twerp approaches to sit next to her, between Studly and his possible lover.

Studly: “Do not sit there, that is her space.”

Twerp: “But I want to talk to you.”

Studly: “Of course you do, for the same reason I’d rather not talk to you.”

Twerp: “I’m sitting down.”

Studly: “You invade her space, you invade mine.”

Twerp: “Why are you being so mean?”

Studly: “Because you need it.”

Twerp: “You wouldn’t speak to me that way if you knew I was a retired housing inspector!”

Studly: “You might think twice about our manners if you knew I was a retired Marine! How do you like that!”

The twerp fades away and the good looking woman comes back and Studly recounts everything he said, word for word, with no exaggeration. She is amazed and flatered and wished their were more protective men in the world like him. He owns houses and lives in Washington, California, Vegas, Saint George, Utah,” and is looking for property in Montana or North Dakota to get away from new laws in Washington that negatively effect his business. “I’m black, Choctaw and mixed, have white in me. My Choctaw granny made my mother stop beating me, saying, ‘Leave that boy alone. ”

He then turns to me, neither one of us making eye contact as we look out the window and asks, “Sir, May I Ask what kind of boots those are? Are they warm?”

This guy is wearing camo shorts nd a short sleeve shirt.

“These are Keenes, been buying these boots since 2018. they wear like heavy sneakers, are warm and reasonably water resistant, wear them when I winter in the Cascades.”

I asked him nothing and he could tell by my tone that I was not a negro worshipper.

“Thank you, sir,” he said and went back to scoring some young love.