SATURDAY-NIGHT CAB RIDE HIGHLIGHTS
Me: Can you take me to 2500 Smith Street please?
Cabby: Sure. Lot of gays live in your neighborhood.
Me: Yeah. I guess they do.
Cabby: But you aren’t a gay, are you?
Me: … No.
Cabby: (Smugly satisfied at correct guess.) Me neither. I like gays, it’s my job to like them. But I’m straight person myself, so occasionally it’s nice to see the straight people. You know, you gotta have equilibrium.
Me: I never thought of it that way.
Cabby: What was going on in there?
Me: A dance.
Cabby: What kind of dance? Everybody looks nice.
Me: Lindy. A bunch of people are in from out of town for an exchange.
Cabby: Yeah, you look nice. All dressed up.
Me: (Shifts uncomfortably in seat.)
Cabby: (Leans out window jovially, calls to young guy walking down the street.) I got another one! (Extends hand.) Gimme five!
Young guy: (Pulls eyebrows together).
Cabby: (Motions with hand.) Gimme five!
Young guy: (Gives reluctant five.)
Cabby: That’s the last guy I dropped off.
Me: He didn’t seem too enthusiastic.
Cabby: Yeah, “I want a cab ride, buddy. Not an experience!” Heh….
(Swipes his hand over face, yanks ear, and rubs eye in a single rapid motion.)
(Minutes pass, Cabby talks incessantly in surprisingly intelligent albeit coked-up fashion. I learn he is 53, I learn he attended the same college I did, I learn he lived in Mexico with his wife and son, I learn he is higher than a kite looking for God in a tornado.)
Cabby: Wha? (Almost hits another car at a four-way-stop intersection.) Whoa. He blew that stop didn’t he?
Me: No. (Consider getting out of cab for 27th time since I got in. Decide Cabby will follow me up the street and begin to pray.)
Cabby: So what do you do?
Me: I’m an editor.
Cabby: For what?
Me: A little magazine.
Cabby: What magazine?
Me: A little magazine for Web developers.
Cabby: How much does that pay?
Cabby: ‘Cause my night vision is going, and I think editing would good for my eyes. That type of thing is good for your eyes.
Me: Actually, it’s really bad for–
Cabby: I have a son, Mark and he’s in school and I proofread his papers. I feel that’s something I can offer him, you know, to take his papers from… you know, to the next level. Like by editing them.
Me: Yeah. I’m on the right.
Cabby: How much do you make?
Me: Uh, about (Can’t believe I’m telling the cab driver my annual salary.)
Cabby: That’s pretty good. How could I get into that, because I do a lot of editing around, you know?
Me: (Gets out of cab.)
Cabby: (Talks at gunfire pace for an eternal three minutes with no pauses for air.)
Me: (Closes door, walks to gate.)
Cabby: (Rolls down passenger window, continues briefing me on his editing skills).
Me: (Nods, closes front door. Locks front door in every manner available. Leans with back to door like character in horrible Julia Roberts flick about a single girl fighting her way through the urban jungle. Has some ice cream to cement the deal.)