The Cabbie

Damn you Vegas!

I was next in line to get a cab. I was at the end of a marathon No Limit Texas Hold’em session and I needed to be at the airport in 15 minutes if I was going to make my flight. I’ve missed flights before, but not in Vegas. After the weekend I had, I was seriously thinking of never coming back.

The heat was that gross, muggy heat that made you wish for the sweet release of death. You could see the heat radiating off of everything. The plastic safety cones used to direct traffic were melting. It couldn’t have been hotter, even if I had taken up residency on the sun.

I couldn’t wait to get in the cab, what with the cabbies stellar grooming habits and luxurious air conditioning. It didn’t matter. Nothing could smell worse than Aqua Velva Man who was ahead of me.

I knew I would feel better if I could just get to the airport and drown my sorrows in a cold Bud Light. Maybe the beer could help me forget the $16,000 I had lost this weekend. This heat sure as hell wasn’t helping me. I thanked God the moment Aqua Velva Man got in the cab. Finally I could stop holding my breath like a corpse on CSI. I just want to leave this place and get back to Minneapolis.

“Next in line” called the taxi valet.

He was wearing a grey bellman’s suit, along with one of the spiffy bellman hats. He must be hot as hell in that get-up, I thought as I handed him a one-dollar bill. He told me to have a nice day as I sidled my way into the cab. He slammed the door behind me. I don’t think he had the highest job satisfaction in the world. But I guess I wouldn’t either if I were essentially a glorified monkey.

“Fuckin’ TA. Is that bastard still over there?” the cabbie said as I got in the car.

I looked behind me. Was he talking to me? I looked to the side. There was no one else in the cab, so he must have been talking to me. Did he want an answer? Was that question rhetorical? Why is he so angry? Cripes.

“Ummm…I don’t know if he’s still there.” I stammered like I did when I asked Jenny Lieske to prom senior year. Christ, this driver was making me uncomfortable. And we hadn’t even started to move yet!

This is possibly the ugliest cab driver I’ve ever seen and I once had one who had no ears. No ears! I could tell this driver was insane. If I were betting on what his addiction was, a fun little game to play with cabbies, I’d guess gasoline and meth. When I looked at him, he made me just want to get out of the car. This is the kind of guy who you wouldn’t be surprised if he murdered his family with a pool cue. In fact, I would be shocked if he had never ritualistically killed anyone before. Regular old homicides were a given with this guy.

He was a fatter version of Ron Jeremy. He had the long, greasy hair held in place with two quarts of 10W30. He had a scraggly beard that wasn’t quite connected to the mustache. It’s as if he couldn’t grow the connector part; a pain I am also afflicted with.

He was wearing a wife beater that looked to be at least 4 years old. We all have t-shirts that are four years old, but most of us don’t wear them everyday. He does. There appeared to be some sort of stain on his shirt, but it could be a fungus too. I didn’t really want to get close enough to find out for sure.

About this time, I started wishing I had gotten out to the taxi stand before Aqua Velva Man. But what’s the worst that can happen? It’s only a ten minute ride to McCarran Airport.

Finally, he put the car into drive. I couldn’t help but notice that he still hadn’t asked me where I wanted to go. Perhaps he has ESP? Maybe that was his gimmick. That’s how he got the big tips and such. The man has to have some reason.

“There’s that fucker. No good, piece of shit TA.” the cabbie spit out.

Apparently, this TA person has done something to offend the driver. I don’t know who this TA is, or what it is, but I know I wish on my magic lamp it hadn’t done whatever it had done to the man who held what little life I have left in his hands.

“Yeah, the TA sucks! They’re always going out and doing things. Things! Like anyone asked them to do that! Man, if I had a dollar for every time I saw one of them…I would have a butt load of dollars. ” I replied to his unasked question.

When in Rome I guess. Right now, I’m pretty much hoping he doesn’t pull a Zed on me on the way to the airport. Lord Tariq is he making me uncomfortable.

It seems to me that we’re just aimlessly driving around, like a family on a leisurely Sunday afternoon. We’ve been driving for over two minutes and the man has yet to ask me where I’m headed. I hope this ESP angle plays out but I have my doubts.

I really need to make this plane, but he just seems so angry. I want to just blurt out where I’m going but I don’t want him to go Mt. St. Helens on me. All of the sudden I was Terri Schiavo; I have no say in what is happening to me.

Screw it! This has gone on long enough. I’m tired, I’m cranky, I lost the equivalent of a mid-sized sedan this weekend, I’m hot and this cab smells like someone dropped a pine bomb and covered it with burnt hair. I’m not missing this flight! I’m going to tell him in three seconds. One…two…

“So, where you headed?” the driver finally asks me. Hmmm…maybe he does have ESP.

“I’m going to McCarran.” About time. Now we can get on the ball.

“Airline?”

“Uhhh…America West.” Finally, now it’s just time to sit back and wait for him to drop me off at the airport. No more worries. No more chatter. Now it’s just me, the smell and complete silence.

“So, where you headed?”

Damn it. Why do we have to make idle chatter? Is he going to remember this? Is he going to write about this fare in his journal tonight? Would it be rude of me to not respond?

“I’m going to Minneapolis.” Please shut up now. Please shut up. No more talking. Please.

“So, you guys got a new owner there?”

What in the hell is he talking about? Did someone buy the state while I was gone? Can you even buy a state? How much would it cost? Do you think they would accept interesting propositions?

Oh yeah, football. I forgot Reggie Fowler bought the Vikings a little bit ago. That must be what he’s talking about.

“Yep, that’s what I hear.”

“You better watch out.”

“Huh?”

“You know he’s black, right?”

“Well, that’s what the papers say, but I’ve never met him.”

“You know what that means.”

“Umm…that he’s black. Is this a riddle?”

“No, it means he’s going to start bringing in more black people. They’re gonna come in like a Tsunami. First, he’ll probably get rid of that nice, white boy Tice and bring in some black guy to coach the team. Can you imagine?”

“You mean like Denny Green?”

“Exactly! You see where I’m going. All the sudden you’ll have a black coach, doing all his black things on the sideline. It makes me sick. Then, you know what’s going to happen? They’re gonna bring in a black quarterback!”

“Umm…they already have a black quarterback. Daunte Culpepper.”

“Oh, yeah. Well…he sucks anyways.”

“Well, he was an all-pro, but whatever.”

Suddenly the cabbie looked in the rearview mirror and his eyes looked like burning coals. He started to squint at me as if he were staring at the sun. His head started slowly moving side to side. It’s as if he couldn’t believe I would talk back to him.

He quickly moved his arm and the locks clanked shut like a cell in San Quentin at the end of the day. As I grabbed at the door, trying in vain to open it, I saw the exit for McCarran pass. I quietly swallowed and looked to the sky.

“Sir. We just passed the exit for the airport.”

He didn’t even look back at me. It’s as if he had already erased me from his mind.

I looked ahead and all I could see was the desert. There was just no way this could end well.

Damn you Vegas!