The Drunk Men I Drive Around Every Night
Slate
February 27, 2020, 8:47 am
His name is James. He’s wearing surf goggles and a cap pulled down over his eyes. “Are you a professional surfer?” I prod. “Pro … surfer. Huntington … Beach. First … place.” We’re in the parking lot of the West Union Sports Pub in landlocked Beaverton, Oregon. It’s about 3 a.m. I’m his Lyft driver, or, as I have come to ...
