A Taxi Cab Grilling

  Cruising up Loma Alta with a fare to the top of the Riviera after the bewitching hour: three am.

She asks: Why do you like driving at night?

Overvoice: My  standard answer:…

He: the people… the traffic… the mystery, etc, I especially love it when it quiets down in the middle of the night … like now, after the bars close.

She: Do you take a lot of drunks home?

He: Yeh.

She: Drunker than me?

He: I take some pretty good and drunk folks…

She: Am I as pretty?... Good?... or drunk, as any of them?

He: Yeh, I guess so… all I know is I take ‘em home and, if they are happy… I’m happy.

She: And if they aren’t happy?

He: I can’t be responsible for their unhappiness.

She: What do you think makes the so unhappy?

He: Perhaps it has something to do with expectations when those don’t measure up to the reality of Samsara. What do you think?

She: About what?

He: What makes people unhappy?

She: I think it is when they depend on others for their happiness.

He: That sounds like a big part of it. Maybe even the biggest part…. Do you like living up here?

She: It’s okay.

He: I enjoy driving up here.

She: Why?

He: Because it is up here… and this car loves winding roads.

Overvoice: She paid the fare… I watched her count out the bills. It occurred to me that her questions were pointed and bitter… there was an acidic quality to them. She was unhappy and the conversation did nothing to make her feel better. I got the distinct impression that she thought I had to be the most uninteresting and boring shit she ever been in a cab with... Oh Well... next.