and boarded the Amtrak for my trip home. I was kind of hoping that Morgan would again be my porter but there was a handsome dark brown, blue-eyed stud, with a nametag that read Bill Wilson. He took my baggage to my room. During the first part of the trip, I passed him in the small corridor, again on a sideways pass and again passing by him with my front falling against his butt. I apologized for my clumsiness and his comment was, "Don't feel bad, feel good. And you did."