anything for my people

The other night I had stayed out pretty late and decided that I didn’t want to mess with the late night subway schedule. So I crossed the street and tried to look for an open cab. Cab after cab with lights alighted passed me….but no such luck. I couldn’t find a single cab that said, “off duty”. Suddenly, I remembered that “off duty” actually meant “off duty” and that they wouldn’t pick me up no matter how high I raised my hand. Instead, I should have been hailing those clusters of cabs that had passed me a few minutes ago--all of which were available. Once the midnight fog lifted from my brain, I found one, signaled the direction I was traveling, and hopped in.

My cabbie, a friendly fellow, told me that he was going in the opposite direction but because I was a Latina he would take me home. “Anything for my people,” he said. The truth of the matter is, I am not Latina. I am Polynesian--specifically Hawaiian. I know that we are somewhat of a rare specimen out here so there is often confusion as they have never seen one before. (And I will just try to ignore the fact that it was dark and he was on the other side of the street when he saw me. How could he have even seen me well enough to assume I was a Latina anyway?….Weird.) Anyway, I was about to tell him that I was actually Hawaiian but didn’t have an opportunity because he kept going on an on about his pride in “his people”. I smiled and nodded politely, and decided that I would play the role so he wouldn’t feel stupid. I then silently prayed that he wouldn’t bust out the Spanish. (Por favor y gracias) I mean, could I really claim to be a Latina and not speak Spanish? Yes, I could but then how could I explain that? My mind raced as I formulated my elaborate story which was turning into a really convoluted lie. I didn’t want to lie but I might have to. Much to my relief, he was a speedy driver and we arrived a mi casa muy pronto. Que bien! No lie necessary…well, no spoken lie necessary.