Ripping By Bill Scheller
‘Ripping’ was her catchall word for a hoarse verbal battle with the world.
I woke up in Winnipeg, around dawn. It had been a bad night for sleeping on the train. Four young snots had gotten on in Moose Jaw, and they didn’t like the seats they’d been assigned in the forward coach. So they wandered back to my coach, which was reserved for long-distance passengers. A
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porter had told them to move back to where they belonged, but they ignored him, sprawled out, and went to sleep. The porter got the conductor, who showed up and shook them awake. He was gruff and dead serious, and off they went to their assigned seats. The good conductors are all part cop.
