Taxi Drivers Who Hurt, Taxi Drivers Who Help

An emotionally gone taxi driver, stalling his taxi on the road. I am in the backseat, wondering where we are going. I make him pull over to the side of the road. He’s mumbling in a way that makes me think he’s sick in the head.

I get another taxi driver. This one drives a clean car. I hailed him on uber. He talks about how America is great, but China is safer. He doesn’t think Hillary Clinton will make a good president because she is a women. I laugh along with him because he talks in a funny way like he knows everything.

I buy a pack of cigarettes at the corner store. The man there says he will go to bed soon. We both laugh because it’s hard to understand each other. He tells me my Chinese is no good and then says zaijian in his trademark way with long drawn out vowels.

I go up to my apartment and shuffle through my pockets for a key. There is no key. Maybe it’s at my office. Maybe I lost it in the street. I don’t know.

I call a friend. No answer. I call another friend. No answer. The third time I get through to a friend with a couch that is kind enough to put me up for the night. This is my Monday, go figure.

I’m on the corner of the street now smoking cheep three dollar-a-pack cigarettes. My phone battery runs out, but that’s ok because this taxi driver has a charger. Only I have to make sure it’s connected right.

I charge up my phone while heading north on the fifth ring road. Barely get enough battery life to meet my friend in the road. He’s standing there on the corner in all black. I get out and smoke another cigarette.

And then I am inside again, in the warmth of a home on a couch with a blanket. My phone is dead but at least I have a place to lay my head for the night, until I can wake up and find the keys to my apartment.

That was my Monday. I guess I have had better ones. Probably I will have worse ones too.

It’s Halloween and I wonder if all this stuff is connected. Is this my karmic retribution or simply a roll of the dice? I’m too tired to think about and I drift off to sleep to the sound of his golden lab snoring under the computer desk in the corner of the room.


One thought on “Taxi Drivers Who Hurt, Taxi Drivers Who Help

  1. Pingback: Dreams That Belong To Another Man –

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