This story isn’t as good as the Sufjanesque title that I gave it.

I get off my Greyhound bus and went to look for a cab. They had all just left. So a black guy says “Hey, you looking for a cab?” I say yeah, he says come with me. So I follow him into the parking lot, expecting to be taken to a cab. Nope! It’s a regular car. I’m a little apprehensive of getting into a car with an entire stranger, so I tell him I’ll just wait for a cab. He says okay, looking a little defeated, and I leave. On the way back to the building, another guy asks if I need a ride. I say “Do you drive a cab?” and he says “I’m a jitney, I drive a cab part time.” Me: “Do you have a license?” Him: “Yeah.”

It dawns on me, this is a regular thing. Not every cab driver has a big yellow cab. And I’m going to get a ride from this white guy, and the black guy sees me, and he probably thinks I’m a giant racist.

Anyway, this cabbie is a nice guy. His name’s Ray, we talk about football and stuff, the usual. He’s an older guy, single, and drives a lot; one night, he was telling me, someone gets off the bus and asks him for a ride to New York City. Hey, it’s good pay for a day’s drive! (of course, he drove up and back in a night. Got home around 7 or 8 AM)

As I’m heading out, he says “You going to be watching the game?” I say yeah, he says, “Yeah, I am too. I’ll probably drink a six-pack. Course, back when I was your age, I’d probably drink a case or two!”

Side note: unless something unforeseen happens, I am giving blood on Tuesday! Those of you who know me well know that I have two big phobias: needles and bugs, with needles being the bigger of the two. Well, you get over your fear of heights by riding roller coasters, right? Wish me luck!