On the back of my car I have a fake chrome decal that says in one-inch high letters, “Manchester City
Yesterday was Carmen’s birthday—Happy birthday to Carmen, happy birthday to Carmen, happy birthday to Carmen my Cuban Concubine, happy birthday to Carmen—so I drove to her place after work. I don’t like to drive—which is fortunate because I’m a bad driver—, I get bored, I get stiff, it was dark out, and C.C.C. lives about an hour away from my casa de work. But it was her birthday and when you sign up to be a guy it says right there, “You have to go to the girlfriend’s house on her birthday—bearing gifts.”
Forty-five minutes into the bored, stiff, dark drive a guy in a pickup truck pulled along side my car. He honked the horn twice. People in Carmen’s area honk their horns a lot (it annoys me). But this wasn’t a “get out of my way!” honk, it was a “get your attention” honk. So I looked over. The driver had rolled down the passenger window and was holding his cell phone out to show me. My driver’s side window was dirty (my whole car is dirty) and my eyes are bad, and it was dark, and I couldn’t make it out. So I rolled down my window—and immediately recognized the Manchester United logo that he had as a background on his cell phone.
I began laughing, he began laughing, I slapped the side of my car as I laughed, and gave him the thumbs up sign in tribute to his guy-ness.
