(From my ‘travel blog’ series, documenting by trip from Toronto, Canada to Mexico City by land.)
About half way through Missouri a whole new set of heads emerged in the dinning car. That’s when I met Buzz. Buzz was sitting with a man that he clearly just met. Much like the Texan earlier, Buzz was the strong silent type. His conversation partner was not. He seemed to yell everything he said, unaware of his own volume, and said it very enthusiastically. The less Buzz said, the more he said.
Buzz was a large man with a shaved head and a serious facial expression. In the two hours or so that I sat beside Buzz, he never smiled once. He later told me that he worked for the National Security Association (NSA) in the US army before Clinton shut it down – an act of treason as far as he’s concerned.
They both stared at me from time to time, curious that I was sitting alone and reading. I finally said hello, but they were a bit reluctant to speak with me. I persisted. Finally, I gained their attention when I told them that I started my journey in Detroit. Not only that, but that I liked the city and thought the people there were friendly. They both stared at me for a while, not saying anything.
“Detroit’s a dangerous city,” the second man finally said. “It’s no place for a woman to be walking around on her own.”
“I was fine. I’m sure there are certain areas that are dangerous, but I walked around all day on my own and I was fine. Actually, everyone was saying hello and being really friendly,” I told them.
They both stared at me, silently.
“I was once in a motel room in Detroit and someone was trying to break into my room. I was sitting in the room, just staring at the door and listening to him trying to break in,” Buzz said.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I sat there and I waited. Then I pulled my 9mm out on him. The police came and it was all over,” he said. He spoke in short, ambiguous sentences, which he did on purpose. I didn’t ask for clarification.
“I have to say, maybe it’s because I’m Canadian but I find the fact that you own a 9mm gun kind of shocking,” I said.
“Well, I have it from my army service.”
“Ah, you were in the army?”
“Well, I was. Do you know Clinton?” he asked.
“Well, not personally, but yes I know of him,” I said and laughed. Buzz did not laugh.
“I was in army intelligence, pretty high ranking. Police had no authority over me. In fact I was given permission to shoot police if the situation called for it, if I felt it necessary. But Clinton, he committed treason as far as I’m concerned. He cut funding to army intelligence and opened up the U.S. to China,” he said.
“I guess by intelligence you don’t mean the CIA do you?” I asked.
“No no no. The CIA and the FBI, they don’t know anything. I’m sure they have a few smart people on board, but generally they’re all idiots. I was with the NSA, the National Security Association, until Clinton came along.”
“Ah, I see,” said I.
“Do you know who Nixon is?” he asked.
“Well, yes, I know this name,” I said.
“Nixon closed China off to the U.S. for a reason, for reasons that you can look up in the history books and others that I can’t even tell you. When Clinton shut down American intelligence and opened up the U.S. to China he did a huge disservice to this country. All of a sudden we have boatloads of Oriental people coming into the US. What are they all doing here? Where are they now? Why didn’t any of them need any kind of assistance when they arrived? Think about it. This country is going to hell in a hand basket, and it started with Clinton.”
“I see,” I said, “So what kind of authority do you have now that you’re not with the NSA? Did any of that transfer over?”
“Well, I don’t answer to the police that’s for sure. But technically they don’t allow me to have guns anymore, not after the incident.”
“And what incident was this?” I asked.
“Oh, there was just a small incident,” he said. He smiled at me and I knew he wouldn’t go on. The second man stayed surprisingly quiet throughout this whole conversation.
Then Buzz asked me what the weather was like in Toronto before I left. I told him there was snow on the ground, but it was beautiful. He then told me how cold it was in Canada and how he could never live like that. This conversation is inevitable when you tell someone you’re Canadian. It seems even the toughest men can’t stand to be uncomfortable.
Not long after this, he and his seat buddy went to get another drink, and I went back to my seat to try to get some sleep. I fell asleep around 1:30 and I was told later that that’s about the time that we crossed the border into Arkansas. When I woke up, the new woman sitting beside me told me we were in Longview, Texas. We crossed the border into Texas around 6:30am. I never did get to see what Arkansas looked like.