Micah told me a hilarious story during our excellent recent visit. He was walking home one day and a man in a pickup truck passed by, slowed down, pulled over and offered him a ride. Micah didn’t need the ride but accepted the offer. The two men made small talk during the drive, and everything was normal, laidback and relaxed. Once they reached Micah’s address, Micah thanked the man for the lift. “No problem,” the man said goodnaturedly. As Micah got out of the truck and was closing the door, the man said, “I’d do the same for any white guy.” Then the man flashed a smile, and even gave a friendly couple honks of the horn as he drove off. A friendly ride, a friendly drive, a friendly couple horn honks between two Aryan guys. Micah grimaced. There was nothing to indicate throughout the trip that Micah was being driven home by a raging racist. This whole “By the way, I’m a white supremacist” situation didn’t sit well with him. Once I heard the story through, I threw my head back and giggled. Just imagining the situation was achingly amusing, especially as it happened to Micah, who is probably the quietest kindest most soft-spoken and open-hearted white man living. “Hysterical,” I said, once my laughter died sufficiently down, and the story still now makes me chuckle. I’ve been saying, “I’d do the same for any white guy,” randomly, willy-nilly, to whomever’s around to hear, so when I say it, of course it makes almost no sense, but there I go amusing only mostly myself again. “I’d do the same for any white guy,” I say, leaving behind a trail of race-based confusion and nonplussery, and I know nonplussery isn’t a word, but fuck what you heard.