she was poorly dressed for the weather which had changed and was no longer scalding and repressive, and somehow flipped and required a hoodie or a jacket

all she had on was a long, what are those called, what you wear under a dress,

a slip

it looked like one at least from the glance i got when i picked her up behind birds across from the celebrity center

short blouse bangles catseye eyeliner and the tiniest purse ive ever seen

we were headed towards the hollywood bowl but she said oh shit can i change where we’re going

heres the thing about driving uber these days

these days you know where youre going, which seems reasonable, but in the earlier days you had no idea. soon they changed it slightly so that you didnt know where you were going but they decided they should tell you if you’re gonna be going more than 45 minutes away.

i think they were worried that people wouldnt take certain trips if they knew where they were going, and they were right. but at some point the amount of drivers they allowed on the platform had saturated things so much that they could tell you, you’d decline the trip, and the next guy will take it.

but when someone is in your car, and they decide to call an audible, even if you have nothing planned for the day, like how i didnt, can get a little squirrely for the 20 seconds between when they say that and you see it changed on your iphone.

ba-leep the phone sounded and you think just dont be san diego

and when its not youre all thanks lord

when its malibu though youre like ah fuck

not because of anything other than its hard to get back from there. people arent taking as many ubers from malibu to not-malibu as youd think. its why they live there. because it’s not woodland hills. it’s not mid wilshire. it’s not chesterfield square.

it’s great but you pretty much have to just get your ass to santa monica as fast as you can after you drop them off.

then she said oh wait no. fuck. ugh. and she typed in something more.

ba-leep. echo park?

ugh, yes. she sighed. we were about 15-20 minutes away from echo park. which is in the other direction so i made a u turn, right in front of a cop, who seemed ok with it.

seeing as it was legal and everything but you dont ever really know.

im sorry can you just drive, she asked, and started to cry

the tesla has this giant screen thats your map and controllers. it’s also your music. as we waited at the light i typed in monk paris 1969 light blue

its this live album of thelonious with a quartet or something. sax players good but not famous far as i know.

i just wanted to drown her out. no one who lives that close to birds should be crying in their nightie at not even 8pm

you could hear her back there texting, two thumb texting which ive not mastered. i dug into my center console and pulled out a little stack of mcdonalds napkins, she accepted and sniffed

usually id have asked what the crying was all about but the other day i was in the back of an uber myself and i didnt wanna talk to him and he didnt wanna talk to me and i happened to have ear buds and i sat back there in my own space with my head down and wrote a little poem to my baby telling her how i want her to tell the angels that im on to them that i know shes an angel because we were nuzzling the other night under the sheets before lights out and i whispered something and she laughed and i said i coulda sworn i heard a little toot

and that made her laugh even louder which sounded like another one and it made me jump out of bed grab a pen and put two lines on my man todds calendar under the date to remind myself that i was funny at least twice on that day

which made her laugh again but not to fruition

her phone rang silently and she got right into it with her bestie. about how her man had done her wrong again. i was trying not to pay attention. i was trying to give her her little space like i had had my little space. but charlie had written her a text that she was now reading to her friend in an imitation of charlie that i dont think he would have appreciated.

i had decided to take fountain as far east as i could. maybe thered be a cliff with a dragon awaiting i could drive into. they say libras are the wrong shoulder to cry on but i think im really a gemini. who even knows any more. her friend was giving her advice. i know. i know the crying woman in the back kept saying.

i just had to get out of there she said which explained the get up. i wondered if i had a hoodie in the trunk, if i gave it to her id never get it back and if it is the hoodie i thought it might be, it was a xxl black obey one i got at the obey sample sale and i love it so much in part because those sales are so good bc this thing only cost me 40 and i saw it at some store for 90 its why half of the things i wear are obey. and black. reasonably priced good quality goes with anything.

i know she said. ok. bye hannah.

and then she said sir excuse me. do you have any more?

of course i said and dug into another compartment and got some wendys napkins. but just call me merle. only the feds call me sir.

but on the app it says your name is–

merle. that app is crap i said and switched over to steve miller

this heres the story of billy joe and bobby sue

merle she said, can i pay you just to drive

two young lovers with nothing better to do

i feel like youve asked me to do that twice i said both times i was literally driving

i mean she said can you just drive around?

and as she said it she cried worse: ive got nowhere to go

and i wanted to say hey siri play nowhere is my home by the replacements

which you never know might have been the perfect thing

but i went back to thelonious monk

and at the stop light i ran out of the car. quickly to the trunk which i had popped. into the hidey hole under the trunk

pulled out my extra soft extra extra large obey hoodie

closed the trunk and hauled ass back to the drivers seat and tossed her the hoodie

and said how about i drive up there

and pointed to the hollywood hills

and she nodded

with mascara streaming

into my blackness

see how much they tipped

sometimes your baby gets covid and tells you to get out of the house bc youre annoying

so you drive

it was unseasonably warm. it was night. no one was partying. was it the economy?

when is it not the economy?

they say the kids arent boning any more, so am i seeing the only ones who are? theyre boning in echo park ill tell you that.

despite the economy its always crowded there. like how westwood once was. people talk about silver lake but maybe there should be a study.

now westwoods dead, santa monicas been dead, and dtla is hit or miss. i wish i knew more about south LA and the valley but i just go where the rides take me.

marie took me from little joy on sunset to culver city. she had been drinking, but not dangerously so.

only marie i know is calendars i wanted to say but before i could she asked if i would turn up the tunes.

it was a pixies mix i had going. digging for fire. i didnt tell her i was in college when the record came out because i didnt want her to think she was being driven home by the oldest man alive

so i kept quiet

no one knows i can be quiet sometimes.

lets keep this between ourselves.

short dark hair, freshly cut, black jacket, black phone, black rimmed smart chick glasses.

can i ask for the biggest favor she said

i’ll do whatever you want i said

but you dont even know what im going to ask

how bad could it be, i said thinking thats not what the oldest man in the world would say.

would it be ok if i vaped, she asked

i rolled down the window with my little door switch.

then i rolled down the other back seat window a crack to avoid that weird thing that happens when only one window is down.

kids these days. i thought she was gonna ask me to go through taco bell’s drive thru or something drivers usually hate. i hate it too. but her perfume was nice. and i coulda used a chalupa.

zero traffic for a saturday night. made it past the lake to the 101 with the greatest of ease.

after a few puffs she rolled her window back up, tucked the vape away in a coffin shaped clutch and asked do you remember when they cleaned echo park lake up?

when they drained it i asked, not really remembering the date specifically but thinking it was during the pandemic or thereabouts.

yes she said, i heard they didn’t find any dead bodies in there. had you heard that?

doesnt surprise me, i said

oh?

why would i dump a body in a lake surrounded by apartments and cameras and nosy ass people and dog walkers and homeless and screenwriters and dudes with telescopes, and the lonely, when there’s a huge ocean like 20 minutes away?

hmmm. but how are you going to get out into the water? who even has a boat?

i turned down the music. then with my left thumb on the steering wheel i pressed a little button id pressed many times and said hey grok how much does a motor boat in long beach cost to rent for two hours. a boat with six person capacity?

the technology! she applauded.

before i could be funny, the british female voice said: the website boats4rent is advertising 40 horsepower motor boats that sit up to six passengers for $175 for two hours, $500 deposit. Grok continued: would you like me to book it?

NOO marie yelled in the back laughing. then said, see, that’s way too much money.

$200 and a credit card hold for $500 that you get back in 2 hours is too much to keep you out of jail? i asked. then thought, no way is she gonna tip me.

look at that paper trail though, she said behind those smart chick glasses. who puts their getaway boat on a credit card?

great point i said. echo park lake it is.

she laughed.

is that where we’re going? i asked once we got to the 110. to get the body to bring back to the lake?

ah ha she laughed no im going home, i spent all day with my mom, who has parkinson’s.

what did you do all day at the bar with her? i asked.

the bar? no, i just had a gin n tonic AFTER all of that. after walking down the hill from her house. what did we do all day? we watched tv, went through photo albums, made dinner. normal things.

oh so her parkinsons isnt that bad i asked. thats good. i said. life is so weird. one minute youre renting a boat, next minute you forget why you needed the boat

marie was all no my mom remembers a lot more than people give her credit for. but she has this problem with drinking.

then why would you take her to the bar marie!

she laughed. noooooo she doesnt drink enough WATER. it’s one of the symptoms.

they forget to drink water?

no they just dont want to.

the opposite of thirsty.

yes, the opposite of thirsty.

gigantic came on. kim deal. an angel.

the wind.

the relative humidity.

did you ask chatgpt how to get your mom to drink more?

funny you say that, no. she said. but i did figure something out today that im a little bit proud of

do tell!

my mom went to college but she never was much of a partier. i asked her if they had drinking games back in the day and she said she didn’t know. but you see i went to a party school, she said

i did too i said, which one was yours?

florida state she said proudly.

ooooooo i replied and shut up because i didnt want to brag.

marie said, so i told her we were gonna make a drinking game but not for booze, but for what she needed, water.

like quarters?

no. my mom loves watching msnbc or Law and Order on cable. so i made a game where every time a show broke to commercial id say COMMERCIAL – DRINK and we’d take a sip of whatever was in our cup. she has this huge container of water with markings on the side telling you how much you should have drank by what hour,

and this worked?

it worked, she said.

and i drank from my little bottle of water.

and thought about my baby.

see how much they tipped

been driving in beverly hills lately to change things up and last night got someone i didnt expect.

90210 is like that. sure there are the young annoying nouveux riche, but theres also wide eyed tourstist that i love, and then the kids who’ve grown up there. nothing impresses them.

this guy was wearing a metallica shirt. but not like the one you probably have.

one straight outta beavis and butthead: just a black shirt with white lettering with the name scrawled.

his name was leaf. we were going to echo park.

how old are you, he asked trying to figure out my deal.

a woman never reveals her age i replied, which startled him. never know these days he probably thought.

oh sorry he said. then correcting himself he asked what generation are you?

x i said proudly and turned up the sirius xm channel i was playing, lithium, which indeed was giving the people some nirvana, oddly. that station seems to be allergic to its namesake.

in a perfect world there would have been a freeway connecting beverly hills with downtown LA, he said. maybe something running above santa monica blvd.

i thought i had heard that was the plan back in the ’60s but it was nixed, i said.

everything good gets nixxed leaf sighed.

everything? i said, always the optimist. isnt weed legal?

only reason weed is legal he barked back was because the suits and politicians thought the tax dollars would flow in and cover all their overspending. but that hasn’t worked out well has it?

lithium started playing Live lightning crashes for some reason so i switched it over to the 80s channel. addicted to love.

leaf was all, oh yeah robert palmer

for some reason i thought he was younger than that, what generation are you? i asked

im x too. loved him, the power station, those chicks in the dresses. all of it, he said.

it was a blessed time.

everythings fucked now, he said, fidgeting with a vape the size of his entire hand.

you can smoke that in here if you want, i said.

no shit?

no shit, i echoed, just lower your window a little more.

we’ve been having a little heatwave hear in LA. nothing serious. low 90s in the valley. typical summer. but at night its perfect, especially with the windows down as we made our way along sunset.

he inhaled one giant pull after another, releasing enormous clouds that streamed out of the window of my tesla. when he was done he rolled the window back up a little.

i need to kick this, he said, looking at his vape contraption. theres nothing the ruling class loves more than when gen x fails to keep it real.

we dont keep it real? i asked.

we could do better, leaf said, a whole lot better. and now is the time.

yeah but isnt the thing that we dont give a fuck, that we’re slackers, that we learned a long time ago that everything’s fixed and a fraud?

my friend, that is where our power lies. that is why when we do rise up we can do it without fear because we know we’re doing it for purely idealistic reasons that defy all the odds.

uh, i said, lost.

uh?

gen x isn’t gonna rise up to do anything my man. maybe to answer the door when postmates shows up, but if you’re waiting on us do do anything bold or couragous i dont think you understand what this generation is.

leaf perked up, rolled down his window and blew out a cloud of vape i hadnt seen him inhale.

our generation, he said loudly is jay z, eminem, chris rock, adam sandler, robert downey jr – fucking IRON MAN bro.

yes, and i love them, i love that adam sandler wears shorts to the oscars and eminem never leaves his house, and how fucking iron man could be in jail right now because of all the drugs, but they’re not leading any charge. we’re not leaders.

not leaders? he said mockingly.

no. they can do some punk rock things, they can write some great lines, but jay-z isn’t why mamdani is the mayor of new york, mamdani is mayor in spite of no one serious helping, particularily gen x. and dont get me wrong, i love my generation, but that garden hose water stunted our growth.

he was clicking his phone. no leaders he asked defiantly? Gavin Newsom, Cory Booker, Tammy Duckworth, Gretchen Whitmer, Hakeem Jeffries, Josh Shapiro!

i took it in. thought about it as we let an Escalade cut in front of us in front of the Chateau Marmont and said i like all of those people, especially Gretchen, but are they really leaders?

you’re not gonna vote for Gavin for president? leaf asked

how can i when he’s too gutless to toss his hat in the ring?

it aint for two years leaf said

fucking lead. dont be coy. my kingdom, i said, for someone who just does the thing without the dance, without the focus group, without the blue print. just say hi my name is gavin newsom and i may not be perfect but im better than little marco or jd vance who have been complicit to some of the most evil shit which has killed innocent people, put others in great danger, and ruined the great economy sleepy joe worked hard to restore.

YES leaf said, and he will, but you realize there’s a headwind he’s up against.

oh i know, bro, i said, fucker vetoed magic mushrooms and $35 insulin. and he ate maskless at the French Laundry–

one of the sliding glass windows was open, leaf interrupted.

but they closed it because they were too loud, i said back.

WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON? he asked me

bro, like you i live in California. my vote doesn’t count. im an uber driver. this is the third job i have. i have zero ways to stop whatever is happening in DC happen. my state and my district will never not vote blue.

but you have a voice, leaf said. you can register people in arizona. you can register people in nevada. you can work phone banks for politicians in swing states. and you should! do you WANT to work three jobs until you die?

wrong question to ask me, i thought, because i love everything i do, so i just let him keep rolling.

here’s how i used to feel, leaf said. i used to feel like if the usa was dumb enough to keep voting against their own best wishes then fuck it, let this whole experiment go down the toilet. this is stolen land anyways built on the backs of stolen slaves from africa. burn.

we were speeding past Toi Sunset, Guitar Center, and soon approached Rock n Roll Ralphs which he pointed at and continued:

if Gen Z aren’t interested in learning guitar to make real music, what am i supposed to do, take to the streets and demand they learn? he asked. I understand why people were apprehensive to vote for Kamala. it didn’t seem like a choice. it felt like we had to eat our vegetables. she was forced on us at the last minute, solely to beat trump. she was a spite store.

i laughed.

she said all the right things and she was qualified and she would have gotten all the right people around her and we wouldn’t be in the mess we are in now, he continued. and tens of millions voted for her anyways because the other guy was and has always been the worst among us, but it felt like being a kid at an adult party and in walked another couple with a kid your age and they were all oh you two are the same age – go in that bedroom, go play star wars or something. meanwhile the other side was like no way are gonna let a Black WOMAN of all things be the next obama and now i gotta have a bunch of Kamalas as next door neighbors, and they rose up and voted en mass.

we stopped in front of a chipotle. he brought it home.

but then i thought, this is what the ruling class wants, he said. they want gen x, the smallest yet most dangerous group, to remain complacent. they want us to quietly raise our kids, busy ourselves with soccer games and meal prep, binge watch a bunch of bullshit on netflix and fall asleep without fucking. the last thing they want us to do is step it up 10 percent.

they don’t want one of our 10 facebook posts to be: by the way Trump probably did molest those kids, which is why his DOJ won’t release the 1.6 million remaining Epstein Files.

we passed the in n out next to hollywood high

they don’t want us to put up posters that say free guillotine making lessons in front of city hall next saturday

they don’t want us to just stop our cars on the 405 at 420 a few times a week and honk our horns in unison

they don’t want us to wear GAVIN OR ANY MFer BUT JD tshirts

they just want us to follow their lead, when all along we were the silent leaders of all things cool, cicadas waiting for our 17 years disco nap to end.

it’s time to wake up, uber driver

see how much they tipped

what do you do when youre not driving she asked

id picked her up at the recently remodeled fairmont hotel in century city which was notable decades ago when i pumped gas at the then all full serve union 76 gas station for having one of the few rooftop helicopter pads which is why then president ronald reagan liked to stay there

i find new ways to disappoint my girlfriend i answered

she laughed and flipped through her phone. we were going to lax. rush hour. which terminal i asked

united she said

i flipped around my cubs hat and asked going to chicago per chance

she lit up and said yes im doing some work for john mulaney who is doing a show at wrigley field on saturday

what the

i know she said just as amazed as me

do you travel a ton i asked and she let out the biggest sigh

unfortunately i do. i never get to be home. but when im home i miss traveling. c’est la vie, she sang.

la vie, i said but she didn’t get it

it was quiet but i didnt wanna put on the music so i asked what was the coolest place youve been to this year

well, she said, i just got back from india and it was a little heartbreaking

why didja get sick

no i went with a friend to visit some friends who live there. and id been before and i knew there was a disparity between wealthy and poor, but i never saw it like this, she said

is it any different than here in LA? i asked thinking about how i had driven my gf to langers in the macarthur park neighborhood and at a stop light we saw a guy in the middle of a Fentanyl Fold bent over while standing and miraculously kept his balance while being seemingly passed out. he just hung there. zoned out. and it wigged her out and she started tearing up a little

much different my passenger said

the gps told us to get on the 405 but thats crazy talk. i stuck to sepulveda

most of my friends and i are progressive she began. i thought these two were too. but when we saw their place outside mumbai we knew something was peculiar when we were greeted by a young woman who immediately appeared to be a servant.

she took our bags, she cooked, she tidied up as we chatted with our friends, she served us drinks and then took them away. this house, mind you, was four bedrooms. my friends were in the main bedroom, we were in the TV room, there was a sewing / crafts room, and there was an office or what they used as an office.

oh nice i said, sticking to sepulveda while keeping an eye on the map that contined to say the 405 was jammed.

in the middle of the night i got up to use the bathroom because surprise surprise the food did not agree with me perfectly and when i went into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water there she was sleeping on a thin mat.

the maid? i asked.

the maid, she said.

i looked into the rear view and she was a little emotional telling me about it

like thats where she slept. not in the sewing room. not in the tv room. not in the office.

why did they want her there? i asked. did they tell you?

no, i didnt bring it up. none of us did. it was just so shocking. you go places and you understand that cultures are different wherever you go but i thought i knew these people.

where did this woman store her regular clothes? i asked.

i have no idea. i dont even know if they paid her enough to buy regular clothes. thats what i learned: even the middle class don’t pay their help enough to do more than survive. its like they want them to be dependent forever in the situation and be grateful theyre not out in the slums or whatever they call them. it was heartbreaking.

and as she said it she started crying

im so sorry she said but couldnt stop sobbing

i dug into my glove box and handed her over a short stack of jack n the box napkins which she thanked me for

and then despite my better judgement, i got on the 405

see how much they tipped

my baby and i were in santa barbara for the weekend.

she wanted to sit by the pool read her new book

sip on a spicy marg through a straw

and miss me for a few hours

so i drove off towards the beach.

there seriously is no better way to revisit your old haunts than by picking up people, taking them home, delivering them from work, collecting their friends on the way

to the good creole spot next to the newspaper

and listen to the people say the greatest things.

if you didn’t know that santa barbara city college is a city college youd think it was a five star resort.

stellar views of the beach below, beautiful hills all around, and thanks to the recent spring sprinkles – green canyons lush grass colorful wildflowers and a sheen of freshness that makes you wonder if there are hidden fill lights in the parking lot.

his name was earl but on the app it came up simply as e, so i figured it was a hippie dippie coed trying to work her way through community college in hopes of transferring to ucsb, all while somehow living in IV – despite its wild party destractions.

as someone who actually did make that leap, i was preparing a short list of sage advice in my head to impress her with, so i was a bit shocked when an old timey dude with a cane waved me down as i approached.

for some reason the road on the campus was bumpy as hell and if theres one critical thing i can say about my beloved tesla y is its suspension is almost nonexistent. and something i should update when i have a few bucks.

not only is it bouncy back there, but its also loud, two things earl pointed out as we finally made it out of the west campus of sbcc’s driveway and onto the aptly named cliff drive.

whats going on in IV today, i asked him after he concluded his gripes about the shocks— which i took in, digested, and completely ignored.

i live there, he said, looking up from his phone to catch my reaction that a 75 year old man resides in americas number one college party town

but as i said, i went there, i knew there were families who either got a great deal on a house in the ‘80s just a few blocks from the beach and never left, or didn’t know what they were getting into and vamoosed when the lease was over.

grampa was the former, and to throw him a bone, i looked back at the address on the app and i asked enthusastically

you live on 6820 trigo?!

are you familiar with it? he asked, probably spying a few gray hairs in my sideburns, to which i said

ooooohhhhh yes

not every year, but most years dating back to the early ‘80s, a national magazine or two would declare ucsb the top party school. do these outlets research? probably a little. but by what standards?

granted, ucsb has a beach, a surf team, and a long street of mostly run down apartments with unobstructed ocean views. some rooms are close enough to catch occassional spray at high tide.

and a few of the coeds will sport cropped tshirts that say U Can Study Buzzed.

the cynic in me assumes these magazines create that list once a year because it gives them an excuse to take pictures of attractive college kids raging, while getting clicks from the hundreds of thousands of alums sending the URL to their closest classmates.

the only thing that seems to sell better than sex these days is nostalgia

but despite the rankings being for party *schools*, it’s actually the college towns that are being judged, since there aren’t that many kegs in the lecture halls.

been there thirty years he told me.

on trigo?! i asked again

for those unfamiliar, the three streets closest to the beach in isla vista, in order of being closest to the sand are named

del playa, sabado tarde, and trigo

old macdonald lived three blocks from a beach so beautiful, who could blame him from ever leaving.

none of us who graduated there wanted to leave either, but jobs in that area aren’t as plentiful as LA to the south and SF to the north.

the little secret about iv, goleta, and santa barbara, is theres so much accessible beach, and so few locals who regularly take advantage of them, rarely will you find yourself on a crowded playa unless you intentionally go to where the tourists go.

is it quiet that far down trigo? i asked.

the rule of thumb is, the further you were away from the campus (where the addresses start on the 6500 block and then go higher, the quieter it got. IV ends after the 6800 block so pops was probably living a mostly serene life.

nope, he said. it is not quiet as much as it should be.

im surprised to hear that, i told him as we got on to the 101 freeway heading north. so little traffic compared to LA. even during this so-called rush hour.

havent you heard, he said, ucsb is a party school.

we laughed.

oh ive heard. i went there, which is why im surprised. i hear the cops shut down all the parties these days before they can even get going.

you heard wrong, he said with a little more volume and phlegm than usual.

i heard you have to register your keg of beer, you can’t have bands, and on halloween if they even hear a stereo from the street the cops can write you a citation for some new noise ordinance, i asked, trying not to be argumentative, but genuinely curious.

well, some of that is true, he told me. but the kids still find a way.

i had the college radio station on, kcsb fm. they had segued from reggae to the news. college kids reading the news: adorable

the top story was how fbi director kash patel was gonna sue a big time newspaper for saying he was an alcoholic, but the reporter wasn’t afraid because she had like 6-7 sources. bring it on she said, basically.

what a dumb, earl said, pausing, and then, finally: fuck.

who’s a dumb fuck? i asked.

kash, earl said. this loon failed UP. providence shined down on him and made him the fbi director over thousands of more qualified people, and he can’t straighten up and fly right?

maybe it’s because he’s in over his head that he’s drinking so much, i suggested.

then for christ sake quit! earl preached, raising his voice and pounding the cane on top of my floorboards for emphasis.

i couldnt agree more mr trigo, i said. he’s already completed his year. he can write a book, go on speaking tours, tell everyone how much safer america is now and live an easy life as one of the former few FBI Directors the US has had.

but people are greedy, earl said, and narcissists, and worse: those who know they are nobodies fluff themselves up and convince themselves they should be there. while those who you want in that seat are riddled with self doubt and concern.

i love that observation, i said, thinking about it. why do you think that is? i asked.

because good people use their imaginations to find reasons to stress out and bad people use their imaginations to convince themselves they’re not so bad.

regular readers know the likelihood of a tip on these rides is always very low, but judging at how bitter and cranky this man was, i knew there would be no tip in my future outside of possibly a rolled up dollar bill and a “five stars” compliment before weakly shutting the door. so i risked it all and said something i learned at a party school.

its my belief, i said, that kash and guys like him who have problems with drinking as adults, never got it out of their system in college.

could be, earl half heartedly agreed.

in fact im hearing that not only are the kids today not drinking very much, but they’re smoking weed instead, which doesn’t really help your courage with the ladies. and on top of that the kids are terrified of having a tiktok video of them out there striking out while hitting on a girl… so they don’t even try.

what? earl asked confused.

they arent drinking, i said. they arent dancing, they aren’t making moves, and they arent fucking.

i wouldnt go that far. he said.

you hear them doing all that? i asked

uh, i will say this, he told me, ive been there for quite a while. we called in to the station a lot more a few decades ago, but not as much these days, but still a few times a month. but it has been noticeably fewer now that i think of it.

a few times a month? i said, slightly proud of these kids all of a sudden who are irritating earl probably every weekend.

what, are you judging me? he said defensively. i have a right to peace at night. even on a saturday night. that’s not a license to blow up boxes and scream at the music and blare their speakers.

i am not judging you. if you think things are too loud, im sure theyre probably too loud. but can i ask you this: if a parent asked you where the safest place for their child to be, if they wanted to get the drinking and partying and playing music out of their system before becoming responsible adults, wouldn’t you say it would be isla vista? i asked.

other than next to the cliffs, he said, yes.

so dp? i asked. you don’t want the kids partying on the party street?

i mean theres not a lot of car traffic in IV, compared to other campuses, he admitted, so yes it probably is safer than schools in the east.

finally he concluded, yes. yes, statistically, it is safe

then you know what id think the next time i heard some kids blow something up, i said, or blasting this terrible music they stream for free on the Spotify?

just have fun? he asked loudly, in an accusatory tone.

one less kash patel, i said.

and earl’s non response was all i needed to hear.

see how much they tipped

she had stunning pink hair, a wildly colorful dress, and a blue eggshell suitcase

i was picking her up from one of the newer hotels in Hollywood to Ventura at noon on saturday. I would get paid $55 for a drive that would take about an hour and fifteen minutes according to Waze. Def a long ride but if I can gross $45 an hour during a slightly dead period on a weekend (mornings and evenings are way busier than lunch), then I would risk it.

my goal for a shift is $250. so if i can knock out nearly a quarter of that in one trip, lets do it. it’s also nice to get out of LA traffic for a while.

the luggage, though, was a bit of a surprise. Typically you only get people with luggage on airport, train station or bus depot trips, but this is why you should always have an empty trunk, you never know.

her name was Ruth. she was in her late 20s. she was a Beauty influencer who owned her own salon in Indiana and she was visiting her mentor for a day while she was in California.

her parents were Seventh Day Adventists and all her siblings were named after biblical characters. they were very strict so any time I asked her about most things on the radio, TV or movies, she asked me what I was talking about.

if she wasn’t so open to learning about all the things she had been shielded from, it would have been a long drive. but we yapped and yapped and yapped.

somehow she taught ME about the Veggie Tales.

“its bible stories told by vegetables,” she giggled.

“WTF I LOVE BIBLE STORIES!” I yelled through my N95 mask. yes i still wear one.

“No way! What’s your favorite one?” she asked suspiciously, as i had just told her about LA weed stores, a Shroom expert I had just had on my podcast, and how there was ether at the first party I went to in Isla Vista.

“strangely, it was the very first story Adam and Eve that got me into the bible because it was so short and so believable, while having elements of being super weird: A Talking Snake with four legs?!?!” i said.

she laughed.

“it was believable because it was so human nature for the humans to pass the blame on someone else instead of taking responsibility. Eve blamed the snake, Adam blamed Eve. And then the vengeful God got pissed,” I said. “A pattern that would repeat all through the Old Testament and through some of the New.”

because she got that i really had read my Good Book she said her favorite Veggie Tale episode was one about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

even though I have been trying my best not to cut people off, I interjected.

“WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, THE THREE BAD BROTHERS YOU KNOW SO WELL ARE IN AN EPISODE OF VEGGIE TALES?” i asked, shocked.

“You know that story?” Ruth asked, now very impressed.

“Do you know the Beastie Boys’ song, ‘Shadrach?’” I asked and she said, “pop culture, Tony. I’m still catching up.”

“Siri play Shadrack by the Beastie Boys from Pauls Boutique.” I instructed and turned up the stereo.

From the opening disco beat Ruth was into it.

“Riddle me this, my brother, can you handle it” I sang along with the opening salvo and Ruth got it Instantly.

The Beastie Boys were rapping to her soul.

“Well who shall inherit the earth? THE MEEK SHALL! And yo, I think i’m starting to peak now, Al,” the Beasties rapped and Ruth was dying in the back seat as we sped down the freeway in the carpool lane.

“Just three MCs and we’re on the go. Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego!” They yelled and I turned it down to hear super cute clapping in the back.

see how much they tipped

i left the warm bosom of my truest to board a flight from el paso back to LA to drive uber & lyft on new years eve

you could earn a week’s worth in one long night of party people

little did i know that the short trip from a west LA hotel to a beach club in santa monica would put me in hot water with the cops.

i had high hopes because on lyft my tesla qualifies as Black, which can be twice the price. also ppl like to be a lil fancy on dec 31.

and as i had learned from last year: between midnight and 2am on new years eve, the demand is soooo high by the beach that you could make $40 driving people 4 blocks.

the only catch is, many of those people are so happy or drunk or coked up or weird that it can take them a long time just to get into the car after you arrive, which can be crazy irritating when every minute counts.

when i pulled up at the hotel/motel it was 10pm. i wasn’t sweating it much because it really wasn’t gametime.

and yet this group was taking forever.

i try to remain calm. i do. i want to be a buddhist. but im a dirty Christian.

i try to love my neighbor. i try to treat people as i’d like to be treated. but if you know your driver is going to be there in 8 minutes, how are you not there in 8 minutes?

dont we have a little digital agreement?

i double parked, flicked on my hazzards, and waited.

i looked around, totally stoked. this was our super bowl. i had washed the car, vaccumed. i had printed out my insurance and put it in a little envelope with my registration in the glove box. i had water for everyone. snacks. gum. i had barf bags here there and everywhere.

11 years of doing this damn thing. finally i was totally prepared.

when they came out the front door i realized what the delay was: a gaggle of smoking hot babes and a crazy handsome dude. it’s hard enough for even two people to get it together and be outside on time, but that many… ok fine. get in.

the girls got in the back, dude sat next to me. looked modelish but wasnt overly cocky.

sit next to me, luckiest guy in LA, i said to the guy, but really as a compliment to the ladies in the back who were squeezing in.

whats your secret, i asked

he laughed.

it had rained a little. drizzled some. the streets were glowing silver on the black pavement. some of the palm fronds of the trees overhead had blown off but weren’t blocking the streets.

the westside is bland, true, but clean.

has everyone been nice to you today? one of the girls asked as we pulled away.

theres something about this car, i told her, it hypnotizes people into being cool.

omg love your energy she sang

i tried to get a glimpse back there but it was all a blur of hair, skin, legs, and phones. everyone was updating or taking selfies.

turns out they were from Arizona and met a promoter and they got on the list for a party near the pier.

have you been to LA a lot? i asked brian.

only with them, he said and they laughed. yep they said.

you’re their boy toy? i asked and took another look at him. yeah, he was that good looking. dressed sharp too. young, smooth face.

they want me to be their stripper at their weddings.

at their weddings?

bachelorettes! one of them corrected.

what going on here, i asked to the crowd. i think im being pulled over.

the lights werent going around me even as i pulled over.

did i do something wrong? i asked. did i go through a red light?

they didn’t think i had. we had only gone a few blocks.

i pulled over, rolled down my window. at the start of the night i put my insurance and registration in an envelope just in case. cuz the last thing you wanna be doing on a busy night is fumbling for things and having other things fall out like vape pens or knives or something that could get you in real trouble.

hi i’m officer [redacted], california highway patrol. the reason im stopping you tonight is the unlawful use of the hazards. do you have a reason?

i looked up at my hazzard light switch, it was blinking. i hadn’t turned it off after i picked everyone up.

omg im a lyft driver and i just picked them up, i said, and turned it off. im so sorry.

no worries, he said. do you have your drivers liscense, registration and proof of insurance?

yes yes. i said. pulled out my wallet. clicked the button for the glove box. handed him the envelope. then looked in my rear view to see the reaction of the ladies now that the interior light was on.

then i saw her. a fourth girl had squeezed in when i had picked them up. and she was trying to hide behind her friend.

just gimme a second and i’ll be right back, he said.

i wont be using those hazards any more today, i told brian, who laughed nervously.

the officer’s partner hovered around the passenger side flashing his light into the back seat.

whats this guy looking at, brian asked?

the prettiest girls in LA, i said.

no laughs in the back — they knew why he was looking.

do you, uh, strip for the ladies, i asked brian, trying to lighten the mood.

they wish, he said.

do women even have that at bachelorette parties i asked the ladies.

uhhhhh… one of them said, which came across as a yes.

really? i thought women don’t like that, i asked,

the boring ones don’t, the one behind me said.

brian said, i was jogging around scottsdale a few months ago with no shirt on and these 35 year old women were having a bachelorette and they said wow can we take a picture with you? and i did. and i guess i made their day.

excuse me? i asked the cop who had returned.

you have to have everyone with a seatbelt, the cop said and flashed his mammoth flashlight in the back seat where seriously one babe hotter than the next were sitting dolled up but trying to look sweet. youd go blind looking for too long.

theres a lot of impaired people out here driving tonight, he continued looking back at me due to the glare, and the last thing id want… and i understand youre doing an uber and youre doing the right thing, but i wouldnt want you to be involved in a collision whether its youre fault or not and one of these ladies or another passenger gets hurt because of someone else’s doing.

i hear you, i said.

ok.

i appreciate you, i said as he handed me back my papers

i didnt notice the hazzards on, hiding girl said.

yeah i blew it, i admitted

i heard the noise after he said it, she said.

one of the others added, he had a nice moustache

omg he DID they sang.

he was a very nice man, i said putting things away.

yeah! they agreed.

i pulled away from the curb and asked, you girls woulda been ok if he stripped for us?

yeah! they said laughing

im so sorry, hiding girl told me.

it’s ok, i said, it’s a party, everyone wants to be in the same car together. i get it. usually i look closer for a head count but i didnt wanna come across as being a creepy old man checking you girls out.

usually it’s not a problem because we don’t have brian. one said. no offense.

well i learned two lessons tonight, i said. number one, work out so brian and i can just be full time strippers.

omg everyone laughed.

he’s been in the gym! one of them said. he should be proud because if you had seen him last year – he looks so much better this year.

he was an Arizona 5 last year?

he lost a lot of baby fat, one said.

lana del rey was playing softly during the silence of all of us still in a bit of shock.

are any of you religious? i asked.

yes! brian said quickly, followed by the less enthusiastic ladies.

Lord, thank you! I said, taking my cap off and putting it over my heart. that was the closest call ive had in a long time.

i for sure thought he wasn’t gonna let us go, one in the back said.

but he had a friendly mustache, another said.

i blame the guy on the right, hidey girl said.

the hot ones are kinda nice, it was determined

among the women.

see how much they tipped

im gonna start shaking, ron told me from the back seat, and i dont wanna get a fucking seizure, he whined

i had picked him up while i was walking home to watch the Bears game saturday

yes, walking, not driving. he did not summon me on his phone, i was not on duty. in fact i was looking to open up the burrito i had just bought, crack open a beer, get high and watch what was easily the most important football game of my life: da bears and the pack in the first round of the playoffs.

but it was really the midwest super bowl.

it was unseasonably warm in hollywood. i was talking to my mom in my ear pods and ron was outside the emergency room ramp of the kaiser off sunset and he was asking me something while wearing a shirt that said NFL on it.

hold on, mom, wassup? i asked

yeah, how do you get the bus to western and melrose?

old ron couldnt have asked a better man, once upon a time i had a blog called the busblog because when i first moved to hollywood i couldnt afford a car so i rode the bus to work every day and wrote tales about whether or not an average looking 30something guy could get laid despite not having a car in LA.

the answer will shock you.

omg easy: just walk down to vermont there, take the bus south to melrose, get off at the Braille Center and that’s melrose. take that to western.

thats vermont? ron asked, struggling with his cane and barely walking the 200 feet necessary to see around the corner.

the new pope is from chicago. first american pope. he’s a white sox fan, but i forgive him. the other day da pope said that we will be judged by how we treated the poor and struggling. that was in my head as i looked at rons dry mouth, white stuff around it, twitchy eye, and curious nfl seal on his shirt. who roots for the shield?

now i know you might look at me and think im ok. but im not ok. not in my heart. and ive wronged a few people. and im sorry. and i told them im sorry and they said its cool. but i still feel very guilty.

also i have terrible thoughts sometimes. creativity is a wonderful gift, but it’s got some dark shadows. even when im praying each night, bad things float to my mind as i go through the laundry list of things im being thankful for. the good book says God knows our heart and thats why im nervous about judgement day, my heart will betray me. as will the devil music i consume.

so i said ron, stay here, i will drive you to friggin western and melrose. brb.

got back on the phone with mom who said, mister you better not give strangers rides! i was all ma thats all i do with uber n lyft.

she said but theres a digital record. you’re safe.

i go ma, those ppl could slit my throat same as this very weak man with a cane. and we agreed to disagree which is why my mom will go straight to heaven: she had to deal with my crazy ass for all these years and never said she told me so when things ended up bad.

got the car. circled back. picked up ron and as he climbed in he started talking about seizures and needing a drink.

i went, when was the last time you had a drink, nosey as always, another thing thats gonna get me killed

oh, last night he said right away.

what was yr poison?

whisky.

oh man that will get you fucked up. was it mr jack daniels or something cheaper?

the cheap stuff, you know. im not gonna lie.

i rolled the window down a little for him in case he needed some air. and truthfully i was doing this ride more to help the bears’ juju than me getting into heaven. the bears were only a point-and-a-half underdogs. my soul was longer odds.

yeah the cheap stuff is why you feel bad in the morning, i said, speaking from experience.

this morning i couldnt even walk he admitted

well do you want some water? i have some water in the door slot down there.

no i want a Drink, ron said with a little whine in his voice. and then, hey can you pull over at that liquor store? pointing at one that said junior market.

come on bro. im taking you straight home. my apologies.

but im gonna need a Drink, he insisted.

what ron didnt know is some of my best friends are people you shouldnt give a drink to even if they beg, even if they get on their knees to beg, literally. for once i had experience at something.

can you see i would feel bad if i took you from the ER directly to a liquor store? i asked him, trying to be reasonable, but also trying to run down the clock. this is the land of the free, i continued. and life is short. and youre an adult. but im trying to do the right thing here.

thank you, he said, i appreciate it. i was so lost. but boy you gave me a ride.

ahhhhh, nice, i thought. rolling down my window and spitting out a hunk of big league chew.

it’s my pleasure. i read an essay when i was in high school, i told him, that talked about the irony of big cities like ours, how people keep to themselves and don’t help each other. and how everyones lonelier than if they were in a small town and knew everybody.

god i need a drink, i heard from back there.

did you grow up in LA? i asked, ignoring the sigh.

yeah, inglewood.

oh man, i lived off crenshaw in the ‘80s. i walked to the forum to see gretzky play. back then students could get in for $5. what part did you grow up in?

by lax. lennox middle school, he said looking at every corner.

my days are… he said trailing off as we watched an extremely curvy latina woman walk slowly across the street. her dress fighting for its life. the sheer engineering. the heroism of two vital buttons. ive never worked that hard in all my days.

your days are numbered? i asked, finishing his thought.

no, i was gonna say that um, that um, mami still in his thoughts, that im gonna withdraw, to be honest.

withdraw just the booze or also something else?

just the booze, thats why i asked if you could stop at the liquor store because i need it, you know.

yeah, i said thinking about the story of coltrane begging to be locked in his flophouse room when he was detoxing from heroin. how they had to knock on his door, open it fast, slide his food in, and slam the door behind him as he cried inside.

this was not that. not from the outside. but maybe it was to ron.

it’s a reality, i dont have to lie to you, he continued.

and i dont want you to lie to me

i need a drink. and ive got the money.

but you said yourself if you drink youre gonna slide into bad shit again, right?

no. im going to go home. i just needed help. thats why i was in the hospital, cuz i couldnt walk, he said.

oh, did they give you the cane in there?

no, i bring this with me. but they treat me so bad. they didnt treat me like the other hospital. i dont even know. im confused.

i could see him looking around. one of the benefits of attending a party school in college is doing drugs that make you confused. so i said, ok thats the 101 right there. to the left is downtown. and to the right is the hollywood sign.

oh thats the 101? he asked.

yeah, we’re really close to your house. it’s gonna be ok. we’re about to hit santa monica blvd and melrose is a few blocks after that. this is western.

ok

did you walk to the hospital today? i asked

no, the paramedics

oh shit

i fell, hurt my arm, passed out, i woke up in the ambulance.

did you spend the night in the hospital?

no i just came here and they were saying oh hes drunk, you know, come onnnnn

its ok to be drunk

they dont look at it like that. they put me in security.

no! were you yelling at people?

no. i was sleeping.

did you puke in the hospital?

no.

did they feed you at all?

no! he said remembering.

thats not right i said hoping he didnt puke in my back seat but we were almost there. adults dont puke, i convinced myself, just college kids. and marines on their first leave. and models. and the elderly.

theres another liquor store. he said like a kid to his mom.

i cant tell you what to do after i drop you off, i said, but i just dont feel right taking you there right now. i hope you understand.

youre a good person, he told me.

i appreciate you.

i appreciate you.

i asked him if he’d ever been in a tesla before. he said no. so i turned on the robot mode to blow his mind. the car drove itself.

thats demonic, he said as the car made a right turn and then drove properly down the road as i held my hands up to show him i wasnt steering.

fucking wish, i said. (see!?)

how old are you i asked.

im 41, he said looking and sounding twice that.

we are living in the future, i said.

and he said, but i want to go to the past

motorhead was on the radio. i took a sip outta my water bottle.

ok so are you really going to have another drink after i drop you off?

yes!

even though you know its not good for you?

i know, but how am i gonna sleep if i dont take a drink?

how about smoking weed?

i dont really smoke that much. he said. i used to smoke a lot, but i dont smoke that much more anymore. but ive been drinking. if im honest.

you are honest, but if someone gave you a joint, that wouldnt put you to sleep?

ive got two joints at my house, but i want to drink, im thirsty!

i know. i know. but its bad for you!

i know but it’s probably… my last drink, he said.

you think so?

yeah.

why do i feel like ive heard this before?

he laughed.

well im gonna pray for you. ron, all right?

yeah.

the light turned red. we stopped.

fuckit lets do it now, i said. Lord… i took off my hat. Lord, please let whatever ron drinks today will be his last one. he says hes thirsty and he just wants to go to sleep. let him be safe, let the drink put him into a nice warm beautiful deep sleep and when he wakes up please let him never want or need another drink, because he’s a good man and i want him to catch that chica we saw on the corner of sunset and western bc she looked lonely and could probably use a man with a cane. and two joints. amen

silence

AMEN i said louder but also asked

amen i heard from back there

read the original on Hot Box

twas the night before Christmas and i got a ping for a good ride from a little blocked off neighborhood square all lit up in twinkle lights and tinsel, blowup santas and candy canes

the cute couple ran to the car laughing, bundled up against the unseasonably cold weather that came with the rain you you probably heard about.

they didnt care.

love.

her cheeks were red and her mistletoe earrings sparkled from the streetlight. he was wrapped in a bulky winter coat you dont see that often in these parts, but tis the season.

thanks, thanks, they said piling into the backseat. was that snow in their hair?

yes, they had a rooftop snowmaker, he told me, for the kids.

it was the grinch, she said, on the second story. she described a scene where santa’s sleigh had been hijacked by the dr. suess villain, with “snow” being projected down to the kids below as they sloshed through it.

i have no idea how they did it, he said, but it was cool, so to speak, he laughed. they laughed. everyone was laughing.

i was playing the new christina aguilera christmas album live in paris where yr girl was belting out a handful of your faves, plus overdone overthetop versions of some of her biggest hits like genie in a bottle. lady marmalade was on when i turned it down a smidge so they could tell me about this town square.

omg, it was so fun, but the weirdest thing happened, the young woman said.

he really wanted to go to a church, any church, today or tomorrow, to light a candle for a few people and his mom. we passed a beautiful catholic church holding a christmas eve mass. people were sitting outside, listening, because you could hear the music and parts of the sermon

but we could see people coming out of it, he interrupted, so we figured we could go in.

i grabbed his hand and we made our way up the stairs, she continued, laughing. we opened the door, and this guy looked at us and asked the craziest question:

are you visitors?

i looked at him dumbfounded, the guy chimed in, like um, arent we all visitors? isn’t life fleeting? aren’t we all just temporary souls randomly selected to spin around on this planet for a blink of an eye? he asked, getting a little too deep for a $12 uber ride, but ok.

yes! i said, yes we are.

she said, yeah, but that was obviously the wrong answer. the door guard said, cant you see we’re in the middle of mass? which, yes, we could. duh. then he said, OUT! and literally pushed my fiancé toward me. we backed out of the church, and he shut the huge doors behind us.

what on earth? i asked.

they laughed, but the young woman was still a bit put off by it. like who does that?

on christmas eve, her man added.

i said, well technically that’s sorta exactly what happened to joseph and mary

they didnt seem to understand, or maybe they were listening to xtina wailing

so i said, isn’t that what baby jesus’ mom and dad went through on christmas eve? there was no room in the inn for them, just like for you: there was no room in the church.

but there was room! she said.

i know, i know, and i bet somewhere in bethlehem there was a room for them

she was pregnant! who does that? she said.

i know, but the story is better, dont you think? that the savior of the planet’s parents got dissed the night before he was gonna make his big debut.

because that’s what earth is, one fuck you after another, he said. at first sad, then laughing.

sure, but then its a big manger party with the three wise men and their gifts and the donkey and the cow and the shepherds adoring the little guy. and the angels and saints checking it out from above, i said.

(leaving out the part where the king was plotting to have the messiah killed.)

and they all had to haul ass to africa and lay low for a little while.

we drove out of the valley, up the 405, then down past the getty center and westwood and turned west on santa monica blvd listening to christina

and wondering why the hell she was singing in paris of all places.

see how much they tipped

any time you pick up a guy at the airport with no luggage, no coat, shorts and a goofy smile on his face, you’re gonna have questions.

although, even before we even left the LAX-it car convention of weary travelers, i knew his vitals.

bro had just dropped off his ex gf who he was so smitten by, he took a lyft to the airport and dropped her off at security, where they had one last hug and kiss but it lasted longer than the driver could stand — who then drove away.

so bro had to walk past four terminals in order to use the app to find me.

you gotta tell me about this chick bro, i said, but he laid his head on the window. 45 years old. peering out at nothing and everything. but mostly nothing. like a dope. like a stoner. like he had seen something he didnt expect.

they hadn’t kissed in 10 years, and they hadnt been naked together for almost 20.

he told me that she had wanted to get married, and he didnt, so they split. i stopped taking her calls after a while because it was too much pressure, he said.

we drove down sepulveda past kevin hart’s failed vegan burger shop, where a taco truck out front had a solid line.

yesterday was my birthday, he said, and i got this wild hair to finally see her

you’re ready for marriage? i asked, thinking of different ways to talk him out of it.

he said, i just turned 50 and i cant say that im ready, but i would commit to her, sure, but i was hung up on the age.

youre 50? i asked. you look 35. 38, tops.

black don’t crack! he sang, and asked if he could vape.

my brother, i said, rolling down his window a crack from my door control.

we had the weirdest time, he said. it was only a few days, but every night stretched on as we tried to fall asleep and just kept talking. holding hands under the sheet, talking about old travels, when we lived together, how we met, the little baby fights, and everything we had been through over the last fifteen years. we had to literally say each night, ok, no more talking!

see, thats the best, i said.

it was like a sleepover. it was like camp. it was like opening a treasure chest and there we both were from the past. nothing had changed. even the way i speak around her: this sing-song goofy thing i had forgotten all about. it just surfaced.

it was like a time capsule of a romance that got buried for no good reason, he said, staring at the hazy mountains to the north

like a volcano had erupted and sealed the past perfectly, then someone added water, chiseled it open, and poof! it was alive again, undamaged, and if anything, better appreciated with hindsight.

we zoomed onto the 405 and he looked deeply at the vape like he was seeing it for the first time again, too.

love exists, he said.

more to himself than to me,

though i was interested in his findings.

it’s real, he confirmed. it’s pure. it’s alive.

we drove past a cell phone repeater tower disguised as a palm tree.

when will you see her again? i asked.

i want to drive to her right now.

i tapped the location bar on the tesla ipad and asked, where to romeo? whats stopping you?

what is stopping me? he asked himself

sucking on that vape and blowing it out the window crack.

then he remembered: ive got a dog, shit, and a cat.

i looked at where we were going and said, ive got a pet sitter. good girl. shes so good ive never met her. everything is handled via text. she sends you pics of the pets after she feeds them. maybe too many pics, but whatever.

he pulled out his phone and said, whats her number? and i gave it to him.

we were listening to the new box set of old springsteen acoustic songs. the tempo moseyed. the echo was haunting.

he said, we would talk about something, she would disagree with me on something, and tell me why, and i’d see her point and say oh, ok, yeah, youre right. and sometimes she’d do the same with me. it was so easy. it was something i had forgotten about. it’s a little like when you have a small cut on your finger and before suppertime it would already be starting to heal without you having to mess with it.

everything heals around her, he said.

my inner voice said, dont ask, dont ask, dont you dare

but i dared

was the makeup sex incredible?

he laughed

there wasn’t anything to make up. when we split, she understood why. when i stopped taking her calls, she got it. she was the only person i ever knew who always understood my intentions, and my drunken-master zigzag way of thinking.

you never really had a big fight? i asked.

in the five years we were together, he said, we had one fight. one summer night. n the middle of it, she said, come in here. she was lying naked on our small bed. she pat my side and she said, take those off, lie next to me, and hold my hand.

and when i did, she said, looking at the ceiling, tell me why youre mad and why we’re fighting. but whisper this time.

i laughed, imagining the scene.

he said, i laughed too! and you know what? its impossible to fight when youre naked, holding hands,

and whispering how someone wronged you.

and soon, he said,

we were asleep.

see how much they tipped