The daily digest of Twin Cities culture | Secrets of the City

On the loading dock of my work, a truck driver named Tater takes a seat in the shade and fans his sweat soaked crotch with a celebrity gossip magazine. Under the broiling summer sun, the tubby trucker is quickly roasted like a luau pig; his fleshy face turns heart-attack red and his sleeveless t-shirt stinks to high heaven. As I unload pallets of topsoil off his truck with a forklift, we chit-chat and have a rather high-brow discussion about how awesome barbeque

When I'm not at home taking care of my son, I work as a laborer at a Twin Cities garden center. Compared to a professional/corporate office job, things work a little differently in the manual labor world: at any given moment during my shift, I can announce to the entire crew that I have an impending bowel