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"Excuse me," he says. "Did you say that the train is an hour late?"

"No." I say. "The Milton line is an hour behind."

"Oh." He looked relieved. "I usually take the 8:05, but the snow put me behind." He goes on to talk at length about the train, the conductor's wisecracks and how everyone who takes the 8:05 has a real sense of community...

I'm getting tired of this conversation. I decide to say one or two sentences, then move down the platform to where I normally board the first passenger car.

"I was here on time, but there wasn't any parking." says I. "So I took my car home, then walked the twenty minutes to get here."

"Well, there's other lots around here to park."

"I didn't feel like leaving my car to be buried by a snowplow." There. Nice final sentence. If I can just move before he starts talking again...

The guy then feels the need to explain all the different parking lots close by. Dammit. He's hijacked the conversation...I'm looking at my watch, annoyed at someone giving me advice that I didn't ask for at a point when the advice does me no good...

I interrupt. "Well I didn't feel like driving considering that no one in this town knows how to drive in the snow." I start to walk away...

"You know what the problem is?" he says conspiratorially leaning in, looking both ways, like he's about to tell me the meaning of life.

I can guess what's coming.

"It's all the darkies and ragheads that have never seen snow that cause all the accidents. These people are everywhere!"

Why do all the racist fucks always want to talk to me when I'm standing around waiting somewhere? I think to myself as I turn wordlessly away from him. I have no idea what the look on my face is, but it can't be nice as Kramer-lite looks disappointed.

Guess he was expecting me to pile in when some witty racist shit-speak of my own. Either that or he was trying to pick me up...

When I was younger I used to argue with these assholes, some of whom were related to me by blood. (I'd be embarassed if everyone didn't have an Archie Bunker somewhere on the family tree.)

Then when I got older I'd ignore them, as they were old (at least in my family they were...) and they would die soon, and anyways they would put up such a wall of ignorance that no amount of arguing or reason could sway them. They'd always end the conversation with how because I was so much younger than they were, I didn't know what I was talking about. Then I'd get it from my parents for "not respecting my elders."

I figured that if we waited long enough, eventually everyone would come around without the pervasive influence of the racists that have come before us.

Now I'm getting the urge to fight them again because THEY ARE NOT DYING FAST ENOUGH! And, even scarier, they're finding replacements. The only thing stopping me is that old parable about getting covered in mud when you fight with pigs. But my patience is wearing.

Yes, these racist goat-fuckers are everywhere...
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