You’ve seen him. You’ve probably ridden his streetcar at one time or another.

If not, you’ve probably glimpsed him through his window at least once.

He’s the one with the pale caramel skin and the tan dreadlocks always caught up in a loose ponytail.

When he greets you, you see gray eyes tinged with green and a smile that would be non-existent on another drivers’ lips.

His name is Tracy Hall and he’s always happy to have you on his car.

Strike up a conversation and he’ll talk about almost anything.

He’ll tell you everything about his city, his streetcar and that tattoo of the Lion of Zion on his forearm.

And what makes the encounter better still is that he expects to see you again and he’ll remember your name.

Many might think that driving the St. Charles streetcar everyday would get monotonous. Hall says that it does.

There is only so much one can commit to memory about the same place.

But then he adds that he appreciates the excitement that happens every day when the sun goes down.

Each day is punctuated by rowdiness, rudeness and coarse behavior.

But there are also moments that lift the monotony, if only just a bit.

On one occasion he had to throw two rambunctious school children off of the streetcar, Hall remembers.

Another time he removed some drunkard who was using foul language.