On a train from IV

I wrote the following on the train ride up North, and I thought I was being petty and weird so I didn't show it to anyone until yesterday when I read it in class. It probably sounds better being read out loud in a hyper sarcastic tone, but they liked it so here it is:

The family sitting across from me have returned from dinner; Mom and Dad carrying a half empty bottle of red wine and a couple of half filled glasses, which is a good balance of optimism and pessimism I think. Mom has a drunk laugh.

Some guy was seated next to me early in the day. He's traveling with what I'm guessing are his golf buddies. He put his stuff down by the seat next to me and then informed me that he wouldn't be sitting there.
"Nothin' personal," was what he said.
Something about the way he said it makes me think I know things about him, like I have some insight into his character, even though it's likely bullshit. I get the sense that he's unmarried, or if he's married, he does most of the talking. He doesn't receive anything more than polite compliments from women, he only really receives them from men, and just the men from his own group of friends. This has never occurred to him as unusual. His group structure seems like a common male social dynamic, where the cheering/egging on/pumping up of friends can guide most of someone's actions if they secretly have no self confidence. (kind of a "You're not gonna get him get away with that are ya chief?" spirit)
The fact that he thought he had to reassure me is telling I think. Is it because he assumes that all women depend on offhand compliments from strange men to feel adequate and when there lies the threat that one won't receive any or worse, may interpret their actions as an insult or slight to their comeliness and/or chances for marriage that he must allay any woman's fears lest she be broken hearted and disillusioned with men forever? Oh thank you for telling me it wasn't personal, I might have thought your choice to deprive me of one more moment of your Herculean (albeit, antiquated) physique, heroically gird with your periwinkle Lands End sweater draped over your polo shirt clad frame was possibly a result of my hair, or my face or possibly in your infinite wisdom you had sniffed out that my chances of bearing you healthy young were inadequate! Thank you sir, THANK GOD.

So they disappeared and someone else was seated next to me. She's a student, my age and going to Davis en route to Woodland. She's been quite pleasant to talk to, but she left after a while for the lounge car to do some homework, and Mr. Lacoste returned from the depths and sat down next to me. I told him that the seat was taken, which I shouldn't have had to do considering all her stuff was there and his legs were bumping against everything. He stared ahead for a moment, and then slowly looked back at me.
"Why?"
Which is an odd question to ask when someone hears that their seat is taken. I chalked the dazed expression and slow reaction time to a half empty/half full bottle of wine somewhere.
"Because she was seated here."
"Wha?"
"Someone seated her here."
This did not seem to properly register, so his friends chimed in,
"You did say that you didn't want to sit there." They thought it was amusing to see their friend getting kicked out by some coed. He got up, moving slowly and with not a little indignation.

Mr. Lacoste and the Polo Boys got out at Salinas.