A few days ago I picked up a rough-looking guy at a convenience store in len to take him to the Greyhound terminal . As he was getting in the cab he slurred, “Dis ain’t no bullshit, man, dis ain’t no bullshit,” and handed me his debit card which I hung onto. He was drunk, and his offering was meant to assure me he could pay. “No bullshit, man, no bullshit,” he went on as he leaned into the front showing me his bus ticket to Denver. “OK man,” I replied, “just sit back and calm down.” This guy looked mean and menacing but I’m used to being around guys like this. When I was a senior in high school, I worked the night shift at a branch of Clinton Cleaners smack dab in middle of the hood. Guys like him would hang out in the alley at our back door drunker than hell and every now and then I had to go bang on the door to remind them to keep the noise down. Occasionally I would find one of them in my car when it was time to go home so I would just give him a ride to his house. You just have to humor them or, I guess, get your throat cut.
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