Scene From a Taxi Cab — The Sequel

The cab sits at one corner of an intersection in the trendy downtown area of the quaint suburb, an intersection with one bar on each of three corners, and three on the fourth. It is a fairly slow night, so the cab driver has decided to try his luck trolling along the stream of passers-by on the street.

Before too long the right side rear passenger door opens and a woman gets in quickly, sitting heavily with a sigh.

"How are you, tonight?" she asks, her tongue thick with the effects of much alcohol.

The hairs on the driver's neck stand up as the woman's voice rings familiar in his ears. He turns to look at her, but his memory is too foggy. Could it be her?

"I'm well. And you?"

"I'm good," she says. "But I'm ready to go home."

After a beat waiting for her to give him an address, the cabbie asks, "And where would that be?" all the while feeling quite certain he knew.

"I'll tell you the way."

The cab driver heaves his own heavy, quiet sigh, fearing another wild goose chase through the streets of this town. He puts the car in gear and rolls forward.

"Are we... what street is this?" the woman asks, twisting around in her seat to take in her surroundings, her display of awareness encouraging to the driver.

"We're on Vail, ma'am," replies the driver. "Cambpell is just behind us."

"Okay. Take a left at the next street."

He drives according to her instructions.

Mere seconds later the passenger heaves another sigh. "I just moved here recently."

"Where from?" Now he is convinced this is the same woman.

"Oh, from points far away..."

"Cagey," the driver thinks to himself as he secretly rolls his eyes.

Her instructions are precise and accurate, and within only a few minutes of leaving the bar, the cab pulls up to the woman's apartment building. It is indeed the very same place. She is indeed the very same woman.

"How much is it?" she asks, squinting at the red LED of the meter.

"Three-eighty," recites the driver. He recalls the woman's previous ride in his cab and the fare of $8.00, and appreciates just how confused and disoriented — and drunk — the woman was the last time. He also remembers that she was three dollars short then, too.

The woman hands him a five-dollar bill. He pulls out a single dollar bill to make change, as he never assumes a passenger will tip, but before he can hand it to her, she says, "Wait. Give me the five back."

The driver does as she asks, and she then hands him a ten-dollar bill. "Give me three back."

The driver adds two more singles to the one he has already pulled out, and hands them all to her.

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome."

The woman pauses a moment, and then hands the three singles back to the driver. She opens the door, pauses, and then says, "Make sure I get inside, okay?"

"Absolutely." The driver looks at her over his shoulder.

The woman lingers. She opens her wallet again and pulls out the five-dollar bill she had originally chosen to pay with, and hands it to the driver. "Thanks."

"Thank you!"

"Have a good night!" The woman leaves the car and slams the door.

The cab driver, true to his word, stays and watches the woman make her way to her apartment, the very same 6B to which he helped her the last time they met. As she enters her apartment and shuts the door, the irony strikes him that, despite her lack of memory of their first meeting, she had not only repaid him for the amount she fell short the last time, but she had tipped well for both rides!

He pulls away from the apartment building and catches a glimpse of a pair of street signs, and is struck with the revelation that there is a GPS problem with this part of town: Salem and Miner do intersect.