I wanted to place further emphasis on the "its the wild, wild west" component of taxi industry personality. Its that amazing and prevalent permission to say and do about anything one wishes without thought and usually minus any consequence. When many years ago the aforementioned "classic" Rick angrily threw a seat cushion at me, how surprised he would have been if I had punched him in the nose! He would have been shocked because every taxi driver knows that it is perfectly okay to jump up and down, scream and shout and in general be as insane you would would like. Be responsible? What the hell is that? And given that attitude, I feel that is exactly what the commenter in that Saturday morning message was implying, making me just another self-serving taxi driver completely able and willing to manipulate the moment and situation to my advantage. The why to that is simple. Why would Blondo be any different? He is a taxi driver. He is one of us and yes while admitting to driving a taxi I remain insistent that it doesn't make me instantly pathological. Clearly I resent being covered ( and suffocated) by the taxi blanket. This of course is an old story, one part fact and many parts fable which convicts before any judge or jury is convened. Everyone is guilty which means I too must take the blow. How could it be otherwise? It is traditional and all traditions must stand. To refute tradition is to malign established culture, providing new definitions to well-established norms. But you can't do that. Redefinitions are not allowed. You mustn't undermine unwritten and unspoken codes. Why instead we might have sane and reasonable behavior and communication. What a shock to the taxi organism! What would be the alternative if we all stopped shouting? Perhaps quietude on a taxi afternoon, Yellow western finches singing, and suddenly no one interested in mud slinging. Ah yes, may we all join Thomas Moore and dream of a taxi Utopia, a land of free leases and no moving violations. Ah, if only such a place existed wouldn't we all be the better for it, daily "soma" washed down by free-trade coffee. What a brave and new and happy world that would be!
New High Point Again
With no one responding, I step out and knock. A minute later a woman steps out and says just a moment. She takes a few seconds to stare at me. Oh no! I thought.
Out she comes and off we go to the local store for beer, cigarettes and ice cream. No, I don't need anything.
Back at her place it is seven on the meter but she gives me fourteen. She continues to give me a quizzical smile. She is waiting for me to respond. I say here, let me open the door for you, and thankfully she leaves the cab. I also have to grab her backpack to the door. She is still smiling. Goodbye I say. Thank goodness!