THE BALD MAN ON THE TRAIN

 

A large, bald, gregarious, 60+-year-old man on the train ride from Dallas to Austin seemed pleasant and friendly, but after an hour or so, the words he started spouting gave me pause.  Oh, I know.  I should let people be themselves.  I don’t have to react to every ignorant comment; however, I’m old and can say whatever I think, although I didn’t censure my remarks much, even when I was younger.  I can’t tell you how many times I got in trouble for what I thought were witty comments that popped out of my mouth in school, then again when I was working.  (They weren't witty. I was and still am a smart-ass.)

 

He seemed to enjoy the grandmother/grandson interaction, and my grandson’s joy was contagious.  The man was one row in front of us on the other side of the aisle and frequently turned his head to comment.

 

As he leaned over the seat, he shared that he grew up in a small town where everyone started having children in high school.  He was proud that he did not fall into that same trap.  He attended college briefly but realized he could do well without a formal education. 

I remarked, “Of course, you could!  You’re a white male!”  

“Well,” he responded, “I made a lot of money.” 

“Oh,” I asked, “What did you do for a living?” 

“I was a Border Patrol Agent,” he answered. 

I didn't tell him that Border Patrol Agents weren’t usually known for being wealthy. Still, my imagination started spinning all sorts of stories.  Did the drug cartels bribe him?  Or was he just a lying braggart?

 

I asked if he had read former Border Patrol Agent Francisco Cantu’s haunting, poignant, and heartwarming book, The Line Becomes a River. Before I could share Cantu’s theme of regret for the cruel actions he took as a Border Patrol Agent, along with his eventual compassion for migrants crossing the border illegally, he quickly remarked, “No, I don’t read those kinds of books because they aren’t truthful.” “Oh,” I said, “How can you make that judgment when you haven’t read it or know anything about it.” 

“They’re all lies,” he answered. His response makes one wonder what he did while patrolling the border.

 

This unmasked man had been hacking and sneezing for six hours of our train trip and used the same nasty handkerchief for every episode.  I frequently held my breath during those events, so I went for the jugular at this point because of my aversion to ignorance, boastfulness, and narcissism.  

“I noticed you’ve been frequently coughing and sneezing.  Have you been tested for COVID?”  

He told me he had COVID two weeks ago, but he ‘thinks’ it's now a sinus infection. He’s planning to travel across the border from his hometown of McAllen to buy a Z-Pak in a few days.

 

So…his upcoming trip to Reynosa begs the question about his wealth AND entire story.  If one is wealthy, can’t they afford insurance for doctor’s visits and prescriptions?

The man had one redeeming quality, though.  He adores his Goldendoodle, which looks like my precious Goldendoodle, Paddy!