Is Caltrain part of the police state?!

I boarded Caltrain about 5:30 p.m. The train started to move with the doors still open and, er, with people still boarding. I saw one woman leap up onto the train stairs and several of my fellow passengers and I also saw the guy behind her fall to the ground. Being sentient beings, we voiced concerned as a conductor passed by.

"I didn't see it," he said, "So it didn't happen."

A cute young guy with, I think, an Italian accent (but very good American English) was very indignant. He leaped up. all long and lean, and walked along behind the conductor saying "What do you mean it didn't happen? We all saw it? Don't you care."

"Do you know how many times I hear people complain buddy? I can't listen to all of you," said the conductor. I can personally attest that I have seen this particular conductor be an asshole on other occasions, which is pretty sad because I've only lived here a month and I don't ride the train daily.

"Give me your name," said the cute Italian boy.

"I'll tell you what I am going to give you," said the conductor with a small penis. I am certain he is poorly endowed because this is about the only thing I can think of that would explain his obvious insecurity about his manhood. "I am going to put you off the train at the next stop."

"Yeah, right," said Italo man, "You and who else?" He was lean but wiry. The small conductor was pasty.

When we arrived at San Antonio Road, after everyone else had detrained (is that what they say?), Little Big Man approaches Italian hunk and says, "All right, buddy, this is your stop. Get off now."

Italian boy refused. Little Dick practically sputtered and said "Oh yeah, well, I'll show you," only he just huffed off the train, into the dark.

A few other passengers scurried forward to be near the Italian cutie and his very beautiful, long, lean, blonde girlfriend and listen to the excitement. I suppose some people were frustrated because the train was not moving but those of us clustered around the crusader (I was sitting right next to him all along so I saw everything!) were pulling out cell phones and calling Caltrain and uttering their outrage.

"You didn't do a thing."

"He's an asshole all the time. I ride this train every day and he's always a jerk."

"I guess George Bush has been president too long. Civil liberties are dead." This comment rated a hooting cheer in response so I disclose to you that it was my line that got the laugh. "Good one!" the girlfriend said.

"Everyone has to call. Let's stand together."

It was fun. As much fun as a petty abuse of power can be.

After what seemed like a long wait, a man came up to my Italian hero, flashed some identification but not a badge and said he was an assistant in a sheriff's office. My lawyer's ears did not hear him say he was a sheriff. He said he worked for a sheriff's office. He didn't even say he worked for the Sheriff in Santa Clara County, the jurisdiction in which we all sat.

"I am asking you politely to get off this train and talk to me," said the sheriff's assistant. He looked like a former jock gone to chub, a jughead.

"Is he under arrest?" I interceded.

"No, he's not under arrest," said sheriff's boy, "But the police will come if he doesn't get off this train and talk to me."

"If he gets off the train, then the train will leave and the conductor, who is in the wrong, will have won." I was fuming. I turned to our crusader, who was not masked but he could have been a Knight for Civil Liberty, and said, "I am an attorney and my advice to you is to ask him if you are under arrest. If you are under arrest, get off the train with him. Otherwise, wait for the police."

"Am I under arrest?" asked the young Italian.

"No," said the sheriff's helper, "But if the police come. . . "

"I'll wait for the police."

Then the would-be cop disappeared and everyone started yammering indignation once more.

"He didn't do anything."

"He was perfectly polite."

"What is happening in this country?"

"Can you believe this?"

And most folks in our car were calling Caltrain. Some people were probably just calling their rides to tell them the train was late.

Sheriff's boy comes back on with the conductor and says, "Look, you better come off with me right now."

"I'm waiting for the police," said the well-intended hero.

I started to say something and the sheriff's assistant actually said to me, "Ma'm, we are conducting an investigation and you are interfering. I am going to have to ask you to keep quiet." Well, of course I wanted to respond but I didn't because I didn't want to get kicked off the train.

"Look," said the conductor, "If you don't get off the train, and you force us to call the police (ah-ha, we had called their bluff), you will be cited for trespassing and banned from Caltrain."

"I have to get to Gilroy. If I apologize, will you let me stay on the train?"

There was a chorus of "don't apologize! You haven't done anything wrong." It made me sad to see him capitulate but, of course, he had no choice.

"I can't do anything now to stop this," said the conductor.

"Will you at least give me your name so I can file my complaint?"

"No, I don't have to give you my name."

How about your employee number or your badge number or something?"

"I don't have to tell you anything."

The fine young adult stood up and apologized to everyone in our car for keeping them waiting but he, told us, "I did it for the principle. This is so wrong."

A few of us cheered him.

Then he got his bike and he and his girlfriend disappeared into the dark. While he was getting his bike, the girlfriend said, "I want everyone to be careful getting off the train. Remember what happened to that guy back at Palo Alto. Take care of yourselves."

Then the train sat for a lot more time. A few of us made a few comments and even joked about the gestapo and the erosion of civil liberties (ha, ha, ha) but then someone said, "I wonder what is holding us up now?"

"I am afraid to go over there and ask," I said, "They might yank me off the train and there isn't another train that stops at Mountain View for an hour."

"I am so glad you said that," said a little Asian woman. "I was just about to ask what is holding us up but I don't want to get thrown off the train either."

I don't know about my fellow passengers but right about then, I was feeling quite solemn as I contemplated that a train car full of Americans had been hushed into a small, silent fear.

After a long, collective silence, the train started up again.

"I have noticed that more and more of the train personnel have been getting more and more unpleasant," said one lady.

"I think they must be under pressure to perform with less and less resources. Stress like that is going to show up with the passengers," I said. "I've got my eye on another prick of a conductor. I'll tell you a story. A few days ago, as I got off the train, after noting several times when the conductor was a meretricious asshole to several passengers, he went up to a pregnant woman sitting on the handicap bench at the Mountain View station, just as I walked by the bench. She looked like she was ready to pop that baby out on the spot. He asked her if she needed handicap assistance to get on the train. 'No', she said, "I sat down here because I couldn't walk another step.' "I could cite you for holding up the train. You can't sit there.' 'I'm pregnant, is that a disability?" Then I interrupted them and asked her "Is this guy being an asshole?" With that, the commandante conductor withdrew and I told her he had been an asshole on my whole ride."

The pregnant woman said she was going to call and complain but I had a feeling right then that calling was futile.

I did call about Little Big Man tonight. As soon as I got home.

As the Italian guy rolled his bike off the train, I raised my fist and called out "Fight the power!"