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Just another day on the Red Line

Auto describes a ride on the Red Line yesterday:

... As we stood, hand on pole, back aching under a week's worth of books, we stared at what passes for faces on a weekday afternoon T. Then, from to our left: "Fuck you, motherfucker!" We spun toward the expletives. Six inches away stood a man, slightly hunched over, with his hands on another's collar. The standing man was in his mid-twenties, with a face that seemed to demand a mullet. His body obscured the object of his rage. Was this a fight among friends? A pocket-picking gone wrong? Should we intervene? We slid left to see the sitting man's face and found a silver-haired, red-faced sixty-five-year-old grandfather. Right at that moment the standing man jerked his elderly prey, adding an "I'll fucking kill you." Without thought, our right hand went up and onto the back of the youngster's shoulder. With a pull, we ripped the man's hands from the collar and sent him two feet back. As we stepped in front of the old man and did our best Clint Eastwood stare, a 6'5" man of approximately 45 years rushed over and yelled at the twenty-something. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he demanded to know. We all demanded to know. ...

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