CXXXI. Not My Guy. November 12, 2024

>driving Lyft

>I am at an apartment complex called Renew Tallahassee

>I am forced to come here often, and I hate it

>The complex has a guard shack with a guard in it 24/7

>no other complex in town has this

>this guard must approve entrance

>to enter, I must have the full name and apartment number of whomever I am picking up

>usually they don’t send it to me in time

>so I have to sit there at the shack and call them for the info they should have known to send me already

>this holds up the line

>pisses everybody off behind me

>gives me hella anxiety

>and more often than not makes me just cancel the ride and leave

>this time I cannot get the passenger to answer the phone or return the texts

>the guard is nice

>she hates doing this shit too, but it’s her job

>I am about to leave

>guard says “hey man, is that your guy?”

>behind the gate is a South Asian man in a three-piece suit

>he is yelling and jumping

>he has a briefcase, which he is frantically waving over his head

>”Yeah, probably,” I say

>guard opens the gate

>man comes running straight towards us in a dead sprint

>passes within a foot of my car, still running

>yells “thank you!” on his way by

>does not stop or hesitate in the slightest when he reaches Tharpe Street

>he crosses four lanes of traffic at the same speed

>disappears into the trees behind the houses

>guard says “guess not”