Hang Tight

I said "Hang tight" today, to a fellow I'd never met before. I am unaccustomed to the feeling of power and responsibility that surged through my veins at that moment. "Hang tight, buddy," I said. "I'll come find you." Nor was it a lost, bewildered, possibly foreign child that I was ordering to do this thing. No, this was a real man — a working man; a beefy taxi driver who was preparing to give me a ride back to work from the auto shop. Perhaps it was the fumes from all the cars being fixed with wrenches and brake fluid and other such manly things that inspired in me this sudden rash urge to tell a working man to just "hang tight," but the rush that I felt upon uttering those words was beyond anything I've ever experienced. "Hang tight, buddy." Sylvester Stallone would—doubtless often does—say that to his taxi driver. Bruce Willis. The Rock tells anyone he likes to hang tight, and they just do it. I don't know where I picked up the phrase—the only thing I'm certain of is that I have never used it before. But this will not be the last time.