I drove my mom on the train, got into the car, found seats, unloaded things and I decided to stretch the wires, despite the fact that it was unnecessary tears to look at the companions and how it turned out not in vain.

Two men not of a Slavic appearance entered the coupe, greeted and polently asked where their places were. Mom, one must say the best soul man, looking at the tickets that they have the upper shelves, but judging by the faces they did not like it and they decided to ask why, to which Mom polite and reasonably replied that the flat above, and the flat below, from this face they were even more upset, but they did not argue.

A few minutes later their company was broken up by another woman, well, and I had to hurry and I said goodbye to them, wishing them a happy way, although the men's faces were not very happy and as my mother later said, they cried and were angry with her, but behaved restrained.

The clarification was made by a neighbor when the men came down at one of the large intermediate stations.

As it turned out, while the mother was separated from the coupe, they complained to the neighbor that not a good and bad woman was driving with them, because she told them at the very beginning of the way that "black people should go up, not black people down."