Privacy

Privacy.  When it comes to cab driving, there is little to no protection when sitting in that bright, yellow car for all to see or to despise or hate as is too often the situation.  Often seen as public property, the usual taxi driver is subjected to behavior better reserved for a tree: indiscriminate weather battering the external body, which is why those rare moments of privacy are all important---peaceful moments away from an intrusive human wind.  When needing to use the toilet, I especially choose out-of-the-way restrooms where disturbance is rare, allowing me to take my time as if I were at home.  One especial place is located in a First Hill hospital on a lower floor tucked away in an fairly inaccessible northwest corner at the end of a seldom used hallway.

Entering the building from the south I always take note of the three signed Mark Tobey prints on the left, this hospital passing for a first-rate museum and not just a sanctum for physical healing, forever wondering why such valuable artwork is allowed to be displayed unattended but since most folks wouldn't know the different between Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot or Grandma Moses, I guess the Tobeys will remain safe from the unprofessional thief.  Descending  the stairs and then walking further north I am always surprised that once again I am alone.  It is truly a relief to know I now have a few minutes respite from a meddling world.

Another hidden longtime lavatory favorite is one I have dubbed the "Paul Klee Memorial Restroom" due to its Klee-like stylistic floor tiling, a washroom located deep within the bowels of the University of Washington Medical Center.  Back in 1982-84 I did a bunch of psychiatric shifts there and got to know the complex well, that and the fact that we cabbies were once blood specimen packhorses, delivering "stat" packages all over the greater Puget Sound region, including such faraway locales as Whidbey Island and Olympia, Washington, winding our way down maze-like hallways during all hours night and day, searching for that elusive laboratory to the left, or is that the next right turn?

Yes, thank the taxi gods for a few precious minutes of privacy until the next passenger asks, "Just who are you, Mister Cabdriver?" and depending upon my mood, providing a perfectly inappropriate response, thus alienating the customer assuring they will never again enter my life.  And, yes, thanks very much for that, go away and stay away, God! I don't even care if you pay!