December 10, 2018

My Interpol driver

On Thursday morning a black car picked me up from Celebrity Cruises terminal 25 in Fort Lauderdale to drive me to the Four Seasons Miami on Brickell. The driver was a cheerful, chatty, friendly older man who told me he'd been specially requested, that he'd driven from Palm Beach just to pick me up. He asked me what I do for a living, and when I told him I work at Food & Wine, he seemed confused—he said he's usually only assigned to drive moguls and politicians because he has the highest level of security clearance, because he worked for Interpol for nearly 20 years.

We had a pretty normal conversation after that, at least for the next 20 minutes. We talked about restaurants and travel—Italy, China, Canada—and he told me some great stories from when he worked in government, how he used to travel ahead on security detail and how, in training, they'd be given specific instructions on how to speak, behave, and even order food in cities around the world.

And then, all of a sudden, he started to tell me about myself. He sort of glanced at me in the rear view mirror and casually said, "See, I'm just doing this police thing on you." Profiling, I guess? He instantly knew that I'm single, don't have kids, travel a lot, and don't keep a lot of close relationships. It was... weird. But also not weird at the same time, because it was all true. He told me long stories about how he spent decades traveling for work and how it impacted him and his family. As we pulled up to the hotel, I gave him the bottle of Veuve I'd gotten on board the cruise ship. And when he got my suitcase out of the trunk of the car, he hugged me and looked me in the eye. And the last thing he said to me was: "Don't be afraid of love."