Page 11 - ARRS #582 - The Mystery of the Lost Wallet

Another Random Road Story #582

[threat assessment: still low.]
“Okay, Montague-like-Shakespeare,” I deadpanned back to him as I put
the clipboard down and looked into the rear-view.
“Is that near ‘Capulet’ street?”
He stared blankly in the mirror at me for a second then guffawed
obnoxiously. It was a sound that I was sure he would have never made
without the liquor. He slapped his knee in delight.
“Oh you know SHAKEspeare!” he slurred loudly. He reached up to clap
me on the shoulder, missed by four inches, and didn’t even notice.
Then he added in a softer tone, “good girl…” And his voice trailed off.
I hated the term “good girl” – as if I was ten years old and had just
finished my homework; instead of the world-wise, rough-and-tumble cab
driver that I really was. But it was the nature of the business. The guy was
drunk, and older, and I was sure he didn’t mean any disrespect. I let it go.
Besides, if that was the worst I would get out of a Saturday night in the taxi
then I’d be doing pretty well.
th
“I learned just enough Shakespeare to pass 11 grade English,” I said
toward the back seat as I moved the cab’s gearshifter into DRIVE.
The man with the sandy hair uttered a small noise that might have been a
chuckle. He was fading quickly. In the mirror I saw that his chin was resting
on his chest and his eyes already appeared to be closed.
Before my window of opportunity closed, I said to him, “That Montague
street, is that by Hastings Road and Tokata?”
“Yeah, Bethseda,” came a mumble from the back seat, followed by a soft
snoring sound.
Okay, Hastings and BETHSEDA. I’ll wake him up a mile from there…
Goodnight, dude.
As I wove through the bustling downtown on the way to the freeway
entrance ramp on the far side of Trendy Town, I routinely checked my
mirrors, including the traffic behind me. The man was slumped over and
leaning against his door, mouth slightly open. He was fast asleep.
I turned up the FM radio to a more audible drone to entertain myself, but
not loud enough to rouse my passenger. I figured he wouldn’t me running DJ.

Part III – The Adventure.

Halfway to Washington Hills, on the freeway through the spacious and
more rural outlying suburbs, I was lost in my own world of funky jazz tunes
and the endless possibilities ahead in my life.
Could I really take over the whole taxicab industry in the metro area?