Walking out of the Union Station on south Canal Street, I couldn’t wait to get to the Union Hall and see Cassie again. I was a nervous wreck, shaking so bad I had to light up a Salem and try to calm down. I hadn’t finished my cigarette when a yellow cab stopped in the middle of the street. With the window down, the driver yelled, “Where to soldier?” After throwing my duffel bag in the back seat, I jumped upfront with him, saying, “Operating Engineers Union Hall.”
“Thanks for serving,” he said, putting the taxi in gear. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, Buddy,” I said.
“No problem,” he answered. I sat back and enjoyed the short ride.
When he pulled up to the curb, I grabbed the duffel bag and climbed out. “Thanks again,” I said.
“See you around,” he replied and pulled into traffic.
Standin
