Hats

Tonight, after having had several drinks with friends at a downtown bar, I caught the bus home. It was the sensible thing to do.

I was wearing a suit and a fedora. Boarding the bus, I walked about 3/4 of the way to the back (one row past the back door, and up one level) and took a seat. Seated at the very back of the bus was a young man, perhaps 20 or so, wearing a cowboy hat. As I sat down, I heard some music blaring from his phone. After about 30 seconds, I turned around and said, “Do you mind turning that down?”

He answered, “Do you have a problem with my music? We can step outside and settle this right now.”

“We could, but that’s not the point. I’m simply asking you to turn it down,” I said.

He answered maintaining his own frame. I maintained mine.

Meanwhile, a degenerate ICP (Insane Clown Posse) wannabe wigger seated across the aisle and one row behind me said something to him, ostensibly in my defense.

“Keep out of this,” I said to him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

A minute later: “Hey baldy,” I heard from the back of the bus.

“I’m not bald,” I replied.

“I know. I’m not talking to you,” said the voice from the back of the bus.

“Who are you talking to?” said the bald ICP wannabe.

“You. Shut the fuck up” said the voice from the back.

The bus continued on its route. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the music had been turned off.

As I got off at my bus stop, I looked to the back and caught the guy in the cowboy hat with my eye. He was looking right at me. I touched my fedora with a three-fingered casual salute, nodded in his direction, and said, “goodnight.” At the same time, he nodded, smiled, and said, “Good night.”

If this young man is anywhere near typical, I am cautiously optimistic about our people in this part of the country. He has a shorter fuse than I’d recommend (however, in fairness so did I when I was his age), but I think his demonstrated automatic defense of his space, while also rejecting the degenerate who sought to hijack the situation for his own purposes, may bode well for him.

In the Old West, this would have taken place on the sidewalk outside the saloon. I’d have invited him in and bought him a drink. Hopefully, I will have the opportunity to do so some day.

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One thought on “Hats

  1. Pingback: Groundhog Day Mini-Linkfest | Patriactionary

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