Last night while in the cab, I thought I’d make the assumption that my cab driver was from Bangladesh. He was, and we started some chit chat about the country. Growing up without any relatives and my family dispersed across different states, I like to connect with people of my culture for nostalgic reasons. The cab driver started discussing the Bengali government, and how beautiful, yet extremely corrupt they are as a nation. The quick, five minute ride came to a close as we turned onto 6th street and the cab driver stopped abruptly in front of my house. I gave him a $10 for the $4.50 cab ride. The sound of gratefulness in his voice made me really proud; a feeling that most people won’t understand. But for me, it was me helping out a fellow Bangladeshi as he attempts his “American Dream.” I’m grateful that my parents have gotten me as far as I have, so in my mind I have an unspoken duty to pay it forward. “Have a good night and thank you, Uncle,” I said as I got out of the cab with a smile.