The Drunken Captain
Spring 2000, San Diego/San Isidro-Tijuana border crossing
By Penelope James
The Friday night trolley from San Diego rocked with the buzz of young people on their way to party in Tijuana. Loud-mouthed American youths and girls in skintight, ass-length skirts and bared midriffs, clearly under the legal drinking age, were all hyped up about binging in Mexico.
I wished I could share in their revelry, but it was after 8 p.m. and, worn out from a long day’s work, this two-hour commute to where I lived was no fun for me.
Next, I took the border shuttle into downtown Tijuana. Crammed with Mexican housekeepers and construction workers, they exuded the odor of physical labor, sweat, and exhaustion. I knew that many left their homes as early as 6 in the morning. There were also housewives carrying loaded bags of goods bought at the 99 cent stores on the U.S. side, some with small kids to help with the bundles.
As the shuttle moved away, three American Marines jumped on and stood in the aisle, disdaining the few vacant seats next to passengers.
The two younger ones in fatigues were muscular, clean-faced, with shaven heads. The third, in a white T-shirt and jeans, had the bellicose eyes and stance of a soldier who’d seen too much blood and gore. He was powerfully built but not in good shape, more flab and gut, and as he climbed onto the shuttle, he let out a huge belch.
The Marines’ voices were so loud that everyone could hear them. Being British, I identified a younger one as having a Scottish brogue. What was he doing in the American forces? Probably a way to get his papers.
He addressed the older man as Captain. Why were enlisted men on an outing with a senior ranking officer? It soon became obvious. The captain was drunk. Drunk and apparently heading for free-wheeling Tijuana to booze it up more.
As the shuttle made its way through jammed traffic, the captain blared out offensive statements. “Can’t wait to get my hands on some big Mexican tits and fuck a bunch of cunts.”
The Scottish Marine shook his head. “Captain, please, there are women and children here.”
“Who gives a fuck for the shit-suckin’ bitches?” the captain told him. “They don’t understand nothin’.”
His befuddled mind didn’t include the possibility of other Anglo passengers, and his bleary eyes failed to notice my fair hair and white complexion.
It didn’t make any difference if anyone understood what he said; the tone of his bellowed words was enough to get the sense of it. Housewives averted their eyes, and construction workers looked down at their feet, as if ashamed. The kids, wide-eyed, twitched with fear or burrowed into their mothers’ bodies, trying to hide.
Heat rose in my face, and prickly sweat covered my skin as I resisted the temptation to tell him to shut up. Like the rest of the passengers, I didn’t want to do anything to add to the big gringo’s rage.
My image of the military was forged by my naval-commander father. A captain was someone to respect. Not a foul-mouthed individual like this one. On American public transportation, his behavior would get him evicted or even arrested. But he couldn’t care less on a Mexican bus, even though we were still on American soil.
It was impossible to ignore the captain’s obscenity-dotted tirade directed mainly at Mexicans. Frustration rose like acid reflux in my throat as I fought my urge, captain or not, to stand up and tell him to mind his manners and uphold the honor of his rank. Then I thought, why should I have to do it? His men should handle him, but they were his subordinates and perhaps scared of him themselves.
I caught the eye of the Scottish Marine and mouthed at him, “Please do something.”
He tried again. “Sir, you’re scaring the passengers.”
The Captain glared at us. “These lousy sacks of shit. They can go fuck themselves. That’s all Mexicans are good for.”
The woman next to me said in Spanish, “Señora, you speak English; try and calm him down.” The one in the seat behind me, who had a little girl of about 10 with her, prodded me. “Please, Señora, he’s frightening my daughter.”
Others turned to me, as if expecting that because of my Anglo appearance, I should do something. I saw their fear and sensed their desperation. Most were dependent on hard-to-get U.S. work permits, and after generations of being bullied by authority figures on both sides of the border, they’d learned that it was safer to turn the other cheek.
But why should I, a woman half the captain’s size, confront him instead of the driver or any of the other men? Because I had the misfortune to be the only Anglo passenger?
I doubted there was one among them who would stand at my side against what they must see as a mad as a rabid dog gringo. Besides, it wasn’t a good idea for anyone to try to reason with a drunken bully, especially a big, powerful captain, frothing with booze and contempt. This ride would be over in 15 minutes. Better wait it out.
Then the captain mentioned one particularly nauseating thing he intended to do to a Mexican puta. Something I’d never heard uttered out loud, so unmentionable that I wouldn’t bring myself to repeat it.
I shot out of my seat. The words flew from my mouth before I could hold them back.
“Captain, would you please watch your language and stop insulting Mexicans?”
He turned, his eyes filmed over with anger as he marked me as the one who spoke. The passengers huddled against each other or backed into their seats.
“What did you fuckin’ tell me to do?” His voice was a bellow to arms.
“Stop insulting Mexicans. Why don’t you get off the bus at the border crossing and go home? With that attitude, you’re not welcome in Mexico.”
“Who do you think you are, the fuckin’ high-and-mighty queen of England, bitch?”
Fueled by alcohol and Marine machismo, he advanced on me, his arm raised as if to punch me. I braced myself, tightening my fist. If I had to, I’d whack him first, right in his fat gut.
In less than a blink, the other Marines grabbed him and shuffled him away from me as far as they could down the narrow bus aisle, pulling him toward the back.
“C’mon, Captain, you don’t want to hit a lady,” Scotty said.
“What lady? That dried-up old bitch,” he yelled at me.
I sat again, waiting for him to make another move, but his men had him corralled at the other end of the bus. Instead, I became his verbal target, and he continued until we reached downtown Tijuana. The impact of his stream of abuse felt as if he was hurling invisible stones at me, but I dared not say another word.
The Marines were the first off the shuttle. I felt a wave of relief to see them gone. Several passengers told me, “Gracias,” as we got down. I watched the Captain stagger off to do whatever foul deeds he planned.
So I was surprised when Scotty turned and came back to apologize for his captain’s behavior. “He’s not himself today. He suffered a big personal loss.”
“That’s no excuse. Your captain is out of control. I’d like his name to report him.”
“Please, ma’am, don’t do that. They’d have me balls for breakfast.” He had a very young, very fresh face, and he pleaded like a kid barely out of school. “He’s an officer, and this will mean big trouble for us for not keeping him in order.”
“You’re a soldier,” I said. “It’s your duty.”
“Sorry,” he said, “but it’s not my place.”
“Then I’ll find out who he is myself,” I told him.
“You better stay out of it.” His voice wasn’t friendly anymore. “We Marines watch out for our own, and we don’t like civilians getting involved.” He turned and hurried after the lout who was his senior officer.
Nothing I could do. At least I’d stood up to the bully. So what? An insignificant, and by now, forgotten action. But he’d lost the respect of his men, and if he had an iota of decency in him, tomorrow, sober and hung over, he might find a dent in his armor.
I lifted my head, squared my shoulders, and walked home with a feeling of pride. I may not have won the battle with him, but I’d won it with myself.
Penelope James lived many years in Mexico and now is living in the United States. This is an excerpt from an unpublished memoir, Don’t Hang Up!
Posted by Elizabeth Armstrong Moore on Thursday, June 28th, 2007 | Email This PostThis entry was posted on Thursday, June 28th, 2007 at 12:02 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
47 Responses to “The Drunken Captain”
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June 28th, 2007 at 3:38 am
I got the feeling of fear, embarrassment, anger and frustration as a passenger in this bu s - I hope the rest of the book paints as clear a picture - I would love to read it.
June 28th, 2007 at 6:22 am
I thought this story conveyed a very powerful idea. Personal responsibility. It is easy to turn away.Not take action when conronted with racism and bigotry.
I also liked the graphic picture of this foul mouthed captain. And the scene of the labor force enmasse exiting the US…
All in all a very good tale…
I want to read more!
Giri
June 28th, 2007 at 7:42 am
Wonderful story ma’am. I respect you for standing up for the locals in the bus.
That officer had no right to misuse his power, that too on foreign soil. If he thinks he owns the world people should slap that thought off his silly drunk head.
June 28th, 2007 at 10:52 am
This is a two-fold story, one that speaks of our internal Drunken Captain and the other, the one that confronts him. Anger and frustration, fear and compassion, we have here a story that pictures the very inner part of us. Life is, after all, a daily decision, what passanger are we going to be today?
June 28th, 2007 at 2:40 pm
Great story, full of visual details and a strong sense of place. I liked the descriptions o the people on the bus and the compassion. I will definitely read the book.
Claire
June 28th, 2007 at 2:57 pm
The author touches different levels of the short trip across the US/Mexican border: the harsh reality of the inequitable \\\”meeting\\\” of different cultures; the American military \\\”might\\\”, in this case manifested in the superiority of rank and impunity of the drunken captain who verbally abuses the most vulnerable elements of a less powerful society; the white-skinned Anglo, both a beacon of hope to the olive-toned Latin women and an object of scorn - as woman - for the embodiment of macho American male-hood. She, the eternal figure of vulnerability, yet rising up in outrage, become the Defender, the Protector, The Courageous Heart that throws caution to the winds for the sake of principle, against all odds.
And told from the vantage point of a not-quite-American, not-quite-Mexican woman intimately involved in the life of both countries, the excerpt promises a rich story, filled with nuances and cultural insights in an area that is on the front burner of today´s world - specifically Mexican-American relations, and globally, the question of how we are all going to get along with each other in a continually shrinking world. I think we\\\’ll be hearing more from Penelope James.
June 28th, 2007 at 5:34 pm
Good for you, Penelope. Your story made me hope I would be as responsible as you were in a similar situation. A good, strong rendition. I wish you every success with your memoir. If this excerpt is any indication, I know I’d enjoy reading it.
June 28th, 2007 at 7:21 pm
Penelope James’ story turns an everyday San Diego-Tijuana border bus ride into a space capsule. We’re at Globalization’s outer fringes, where the power lines, drawn in the sand, are played out to the strands of intimidation by extreme vulgarity. It’s a live, gritty scene,
a snapshot of ‘walking the walk’ down there on the southern border, where two very different worlds mix and mingle their way to a new future…
The author engaged the process; the experience is raw with observations and insights.
I look forward to the book!
June 28th, 2007 at 8:48 pm
Love it , love it, I cant wait to read the whole book. Fascinating, I like her sensibility, courage, and great way of writing and perceving life, Congratulations Penelope
June 28th, 2007 at 10:35 pm
An excellent piece of writing. Powerful, filled with emotion, which the author evoked extremely well.
June 29th, 2007 at 12:24 am
I liked the way the writer describes the scene on the bus, the way the drunk captain was behaving and I also got the feeling of the scare people on the bus… people who (if I understood correctly) have to work from morning to night living pay check by pay check.
When the writer comments about the anger she felt from the comments the captain was shouting out, I could feel it as my own.
When the witter stands up for all the people who were riding the bus, I can sense the feeling of being mighty and at the same time scare of what the captain could\’ve done to her if the other soldiers did not stop him… as well as the feeling of having accomplish something, even when the captain and those soldiers did not learn nothing…
Please, continue to share, looking forward to more…
HC.
June 29th, 2007 at 6:59 am
Great story Pennie! Your descriptions & dialogue were so vivid, I could feel the fear. How brave of you to confront the drunken captain for the sake of all. such a bully! He was probably frightened on the inside when you stood up to him, which was why he was going to resort to violence! Look forward to reading the book…
June 29th, 2007 at 11:17 am
Intense story. The tension was powerful. We’ve all been there, and recognized it instantly, because of your fine writing. Do you have more stories to submit?
June 29th, 2007 at 11:41 am
Penelope James vividly dramatizes the fact that countless people are forever, or frequently at the mercy of bullies. Unfortunately bullies are seldom readers so few will see themselves in this gripping story.
Harry Huntsman
June 29th, 2007 at 12:02 pm
Amazing description of the feeling you get when entering a border town like Tijuana! All senses open to a great story that I am sure is quite common as Tijuana is the playground for that part of the USA and the melting pot of two strong cultures. Its amazing the way it made me think on how some people change according to the country they are in. I am looking forward to reading more of this stories!! it gives everybody a better point of view of the way this two countries blend in a unique way…
June 29th, 2007 at 2:10 pm
Good for you for speaking up, and for sharing the story.
June 29th, 2007 at 3:42 pm
I feel inside the history, excelent description!. Were do I found the rest of the book?
June 29th, 2007 at 8:08 pm
Ms. James: Just the fact that 17 people commented on this story before i did and it only just appeared yesterday is a tribute to you. Congratulations on such a timely piece…the immigration controversy.
Also what an example of an ugly American, and the dilemma of a woman caught between humiliation and humanity. Well done.
June 30th, 2007 at 6:55 pm
I was right there on the shuttle, feeling the fear and indignation of the weary riders and Penelope. I could see the young Scotsman change from being embarrassed and apologetic to taking a “us against the world” attitude. Powerful writing. Good story. I look foward to reading more from Penelope James.
July 1st, 2007 at 7:24 am
This was a great story. I could really feel the anger welling up in me, as well as the fear. I also had to confront the question of what I would do if I had been in that situation. i’ll look forward to your book.
July 1st, 2007 at 8:31 pm
I am very honored to have received so many insightful comments on my story. Many referred to my personal response to what was variously described as bigotry, bullying, misuse of power, racism, bigotry, and verbal abuse. Others saw this as a meeting of two strong/different cultures, the outer fringes of globalization, and the immigration controversy. Importantly, it seemed to awaken many diverse and interesting reactions in readers. Thanks to everyone who responded.
July 2nd, 2007 at 3:44 pm
Wonderful writing, Penelope. And a lot of nerve you had, too, to actually get up and confront that drunken captain. I hope he does have some regrets. I\’m sure his subordinates do. Your writing got me straight into the whole feeling of the story. As many of the others who have commented said, I felt the fear, the anger and the frustration that you no doubt were feeling. I do wonder, though, whether I would have been so brave as you. I, also, am a foreigner living in Mexico, now for nearly 45 years, and know how these prejudice-type experiences feel. But I still wonder - would I have stood up like you did? Would I even have taken a trolley?
Congratulations, Penelope. I am looking forward to your book.
July 2nd, 2007 at 4:01 pm
I want to read more. Now I will be wondering what happened ….because I just know something else will happen. I was on that bus in my imagination and could feel the discomfort. I will be looking for your book.
July 2nd, 2007 at 4:36 pm
Great story! Written with all the nuances of fear, anger, despair, and predjudice. A two-sided presentation to be sure. Would love to read more.
PS: I tried submitting my first comment and it did not go.
July 3rd, 2007 at 7:24 am
You describe a situation that we mexican women feel each time we have to take that kind of bus, is a feeling of fear, anger, frustration, impotence, indignation. I almost cry reading your story! I want to read more about this book.
July 3rd, 2007 at 11:32 am
Wonderful, well-told, enlightening story. Unfortunately it shows a bad side of the United States, but it should be told and Pennie was brave to do it. Shows a strong sense of right and wrong. Excellent description, powerful words. Makes one think whether one should stand up more often against bigotry and prejudice.
July 3rd, 2007 at 12:51 pm
Penelope James is a rising star in the fields of writing and speaking. This story really drove home the sometimes horrific treatment by impaired Americans of hardworking, decent Mexicans. In that sense it was so poignant it brought tears to my eyes. My only suggestion is that Penelope use vile language in a more civil form: e.g. f–k instead of fuck, etc. She had a strong voice that must be heard; but strong language is bound to put some readers off, and cause them to miss her vital message.
July 3rd, 2007 at 1:54 pm
Terry,
Thanks for your wonderful write-up. I’m glad that my story reached you on an emotional level. At the same time, while I regret that the foul language offended you, I have to disagree with your suggestion that I should tone it down. Indeed, the captain was even more foul-mouthed than what I wrote here. I realize this may bother some readers’ sensibilities, but I feel it necessary to reproduce as closely as possible the real situation rather than dilute it with more civil wording.
July 4th, 2007 at 9:21 am
Pennie, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this excerpt. It’s the first time I read anything from you other than your market research reports. It’s witty, humorous and touching. It’s the reality of life, filled with compromises. Alas, life is not like a Hollywood movie. There are no glorified heroic deeds. The only heoric deed in life is like you said, winning a battle against yourself. I’m so proud of you for standing up against the drunken bully. I look forward to reading more of your writing.
July 4th, 2007 at 4:11 pm
What a fascinating way to write that experience! My heartbeats increased as I was transported into that scenario as the short story dveloped, I could feel the fear emanating from the passengers of all ages on that bus, the contrite feelings of those hard working and physically strong laborers containing themselves avoiding trouble, the amazement of the young children whom very surely understood the words of the disdained drunken captain, and the feelings evoked from disrespect and obsenity, but most amazingly the courage and valor to address the situation to demand dignity for oneself and for those surrounding.
The embracement of various issues is key on this writing, the abrupt encounter of cultures with different perspectives, the motives for traveling to the same destination, some going home a fter a lenghty journey, while others seeking to satisfy empty feelings that will not be satisfied no matter how many times they attempt; all passengers extremely tired… some from hard labor and excessive work, while others very tired from themselves reaping the fruit of their dillutive and decadent culture.
The writer has the ability to captivate and immerse the reader into the story. I would like to see this wonderful writer expand upon the subject and continue writing. What a way to bring the reader into experiencing those moments… great writing as I haven’t been seen in a very long time. I am surprisingly amazed by the ability to describe in detail a few minutes of stress and disgust that seem to feel eternal; while courage, responsiveness and the initiative to stand for her principles reflecting the benchmark of the stature of her father and senior ranking official that outpaced the risks translate into action in fractions of a second. Beyond the feelings and emotions that are brought in the writing, I like the ability to disect various aspects of social issues in a bicultural environment.
I would love to see more writings from the writer, especially the entire collection of memoires. Please keep writing!
July 4th, 2007 at 4:13 pm
I would like to read more from this writer. Please contact me at 619-318-1205.
I am also an immigrant and understand well both cultures.
July 6th, 2007 at 8:23 pm
Like Pennie, I´ve witnessed similar incidents to that of The Drunken Captain unfolding in Mexico City, Guadalajara as well as in other in South American cities.
It shames and hurts me as an American, and as a simply human being, everytime I hear or see things like this happening.
Unfortunately, these incidents are so impactful they are what people remember. They erase the good done by others!
Pennie, congratualtions for having the talent and strength of character to put into black and white this experience so vividly!
July 8th, 2007 at 2:30 pm
You’re writing is excellent, you get us all readers involved in the ride. We have a chance to see each of the character’s attitudes, and get the different feelings. I have experienced incidents involving Navy personnel in Tijuana as well as Military in Cd. Juarez many times, but had not read about it as descriptive as yours. As a Mexican I am sorry that the Tourism industry in our border cities caters precisely to those needs. IT IS STILL ECONOMICS.
July 8th, 2007 at 8:41 pm
I earlier thought Ms. James should have amended the vile language by writing, for example, \”f–k\” instead of \”fuck,\” etc.My father is a technical writer, and I was ashamed to send him the story because he is also a Navy man and would have been so shocked by the language that we\’d certainly have quarreled over our responses to it, and no doubt the whole family would probably end up furious with me!(Not as brave as you, Pennie, at least where the Family and language are concerned!) However, after more thought, I realized that the language was skilfully used as a literary device, to shock us into learning the true feelings of our friends, the immigrants, \”under fire\” by the filth and horror of prejudice elevated to such a disgusting level, I must retract my original dumbing down of the language of what is a true horror story, of how we treat our valuable, friendly, hardworking Hispanic immigrants. Powerful, shocking, frightening, disgusting: I now understand that the languagePennie used and how she used it was spot on. Excellent going, Pennie. Keep it up and trust YOUR perfect uses of such literary devices as this story bravely illustrates. Where do I buy the book? Sincerely, Terry Tucker Hinkley
July 12th, 2007 at 12:34 pm
So long as the writer is reporting accurately the actual language used, she will do well to state the words exactly as they were used.
Euphemism is a dilution of meaning and a cowardly way to avoid the reality of roughness in life and in language. Saxon barnyard words in English do have more impact than do the drawing room words derived from Latin, and a writer does well to utilize their earthiness.
An unpleasant incident cannot be honestly reported in sanitized language. If the reader is upset by the words used, then that is an appropriate effect. The writer’s intent is to confront, not to soothe.
The following exchange disturbed me a lot more than her use of expletives:
#####
“Then I’ll find out who he is myself,” I told him.
“You better stay out of it.” His voice wasn’t friendly anymore. “We Marines watch out for our own, and we don’t like civilians getting involved.” He turned and hurried after the lout who was his senior officer.
Nothing I could do.
#####
Nonsense, Penny. The resigned assumption that there is nothing one can do offends me. It is a cop-out. There are always things you can do.
The offender should be reported to the Marine Corps. If that means trouble for the underlings who chose to go whoring with him, then let them endure that trouble - after all, going with this drunken officer in search of booze and pussy was their choice, and they should accept the consequences of doing so, and of their failure to restrain him.
If the USMC does not then react appropriately, then the Military Affairs editor of the UNION-TRIBUNE should be notified. And if Pennie succeeded in getting the drunk’s name - which she specifically says she will do - then the Marine Captain should be named on the Internet. You needn’t fear being sued, so long as you tell the truth, since truth is a complete defense against a complaint of defamation.
C’mon, Pennie. The Marine Corps and society at large cannot deal with its miscreants until the facts are brought out. Covering up the officer’s involvement does more damage to the Corps than bringing it all out in the open can do.
Sweeping the story under the rug with the reigned comment “Nothing I could do” only sets up the likelihood that this oaf will again bring discredit to America and to the Marine Corps. Let the daylight in. No more Trolleygates.
July 13th, 2007 at 4:20 pm
Francis,
I agree completely with what you said. It sounds like a cop-out on my part and if this had happened recently, I would have gone to more lengths to find out who this Marine captain was and notify his superiors. However, in 2000, I was a foreigner, living in Mexico, with only a working visa, and little understanding or knowledge about the different avenues I could follow to report his behavior. When at work the next day, I asked a fellow co-worker and former marine what I could do about this, his answer was similar to the Scottish marine’s, except more ominous. Shut up or risk not getting my Green Card. Not knowing much about the American system, I didn’t feel I had a choice.
Even though it is seven years later, part of my reason for writing this story was the chance to expose this Marine captain’s misconduct. I’m glad to see the many ways in which readers responded to this experience.
July 16th, 2007 at 11:00 am
Increases our faith in multicultural writers who strengthens our hope and love for mankind an give us emotion _fear_delight with their great prose.
July 16th, 2007 at 11:06 am
Increases our faith in multicultural writers who strengthens our hope and love for mankind and give us emotion _fear_delight with their great prose.
July 16th, 2007 at 11:10 am
Increases our faith in multicultural writers who strengthens our hope and love for mankind an gives us emotion_fear_delight with their great prose.
July 17th, 2007 at 6:31 pm
This appeared to me to be more of an anecdote than a story. A powerful experience, vividly written evoking outrage. Unfortunately, these attitudes of superiority are not uncommon in crossing the border. People in a position of power, wielding it over those who can do nothing about it. Hopefully, many will read these lines and recognise the captain , someone who knows him, or someone like him, and be overcome with repugnance.
We are there with the author, as she rides the bus, we smell the smells, feel the bumps, the weariness and the fear of her fellow passengers. However, while she is indignant and brave in confronting the captain, she makes too many references to her own “Anglo appearance”, and just an observation, while 6 a.m. may be early for her, most workers get up at four or five to be at their jobs by eight or
nine. 6 a.m. is late .
July 22nd, 2007 at 4:37 pm
I transported myself to the shuttle as a passenger and spectator; watching the expressions on the people, feeling the fear, smelling the sweat… I felt the anger towards the highhanded captain and understood the powerlessness of others under certain situations. I understood the Anglos’ feeling as the only one with the possibility of saying something but not wanting to be the one.
It is a story that kept me hooked all along and I would love to read the whole memoir. Let me know when it gets published please, please!
July 22nd, 2007 at 11:41 pm
I loved the story; it gave me an incredibly clear picture of the people and atmosphere on that bus ride, I could almost picture myself being a passenger on that bus and wanting to back you up and stand up to this mad man and his rotten words. I found my self wanting to turn over the page to read more. I’ll make sure to get your book as soon as it gets published. What an exquisite and detailed way to tell a story Penny, I really enjoyed it, Congratulations!
July 23rd, 2007 at 12:19 pm
Pennie,
Congratulations not just for your story but for your courage, it’s very sad the image that some americans have about mexicans and not just americans, maybe some times we mexicans are so scared to do something but with your courage, maybe next time some other person in that bus will stand up in another bus because learned it from you. As I’ve been there and done that I really know it takes a lot of courage to do something like that and you don’t think about it, you just feel it and do it. Congrats and thank you for standing up!
July 25th, 2007 at 10:24 pm
Pennie, if this is all that I read that is offensive than I doing well.
I think that I spilled out more filth that what you have written in my 55 years on this planet.
In fact I know I have being a former service member,a retired corrections officer.
Great writting,thank you for your story,God Bless,Mike G.
July 26th, 2007 at 10:08 pm
I was hooked from the getgo!!!The description is so vivid,that it transports you to that bus,makes you feel the fear,impotence the injustice,and at the same time the satisfaction of making the right moral choices;We all can relate to the situation,as we’ve all been there at one time or another; it makes you realize that you need to act in accordance with your values and beliefs if you want to make a difference…unfortunately there will always be drunken captains,hopefully there will also be more Pennies.
Can’t wait to read the rest!!!!
September 3rd, 2007 at 1:36 pm
You certainly have a way with words.
Descriptions are intense, graphic, gripping.
I hope you will continue to write and I would be pleased to buy your book or books.
September 5th, 2007 at 4:17 pm
You never know how your words can change people. Your words had an immediate affect on him,I’am sure he will not forget them.With that being said hopefully he will take your words to heart and change his ways.We never know in situations like this if change does happen,but you have planted a seed and thank goodness for that.It took alot of confidence to do what you did.I commend you for that.