When I got on the train, I carefully chose a seat between two people as opposed to the long open seat closer to where I entered the train. The drunk guy shuffled towards where I was sitting and hesitated, scanning the seating situation, and then asked the guy next to me if “he would scoot over so he could sit next to his friend”. My seat neighbor shifted, and alarmed, I spoke up, “hey, he’s not my friend – a two second conversation doesn’t make us friends”, and hardly glancing up from his phone, I felt my seatmate’s weight shift back to resting. The drunk looked confused, then decided to occupy the still open seat next to my neighbor, and began talking to him as though their maleness made them compadres. I still had my headphones on, so I ignored what he was saying until I heard the word “bitch”, and then, still staring at my open book, I discretely removed the ear bud furthest from him to monitor the situation. “Some chicks don’t know what’s good for them, am I right? Fucking bitches think they can say whatever they want, man, know what I mean”? My seatmate didn’t acknowledge his solicitation for agreement, continuing to stare at the game on his phone. If he was afraid, he didn’t show it, but I doubt he was afraid, whereas I was growing increasingly alarmed.