August 27th, 2008
“Son of a bitch, you’re running up the meter!”27 comments
August 20th, 2008
"Hey bro, remember me? You wrote that story about me in the paper."3 comments
August 13th, 2008
“It’s the Californians, man, the Californians are the worst.”15 comments
August 6th, 2008
The middle-aged man I picked up at Vendetta is in a hyperactively verbose lather ...0 comments
July 23rd, 2008
When I step into the obese old woman's apartment5 comments
July 16th, 2008
The obese old woman at Fred Meyer has a bad hip and a wheelchair...8 comments
July 9th, 2008
“...I need to take a shower first and wash all of this blood off.”6 comments
July 2nd, 2008
“So I’ve got these two women in the back of my cab who just refuse to get out...”8 comments
June 25th, 2008
“My friend’s getting divorced, and he’s really drunk,” says the bartender...8 comments
June 18th, 2008
There’s nothing like a good Friday night, and I’m referring to the money.3 comments
[December 12th, 2007]
“I’m headed to Emanuel,” says the middle-aged woman. It’s a short trip.
“Everything OK?”
“I’m blessed,” she says, her voice serene and sincere.
Part of me’s a little disappointed I don’t need to race. I’ve always liked the idea of showing off and getting to tear around at high speed with the hazards flashing, but I’ve never had the opportunity. Instantly after the initial reaction, there’s a much stronger flash of guilt. I ask her why she has go to the hospital after midnight.
“My boy got shot,” she says. “He just got his new liver today.”
That puts things in perspective. Just seconds earlier, I was internally grousing about a short trip and not being able to live out an adolescent fantasy. This woman’s son got shot, and she says she’s blessed. For what must be the hundredth time, I realize that I really am just as self-absorbed and petty as the drunks I cart around. Except that I don’t even have the excuse of being drunk.
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“That’s good!” I exclaim. “I mean, good that he got a transplant and everything, not that he got shot.”
“God is good,” she says.
“Is he gonna be all right? Is his body accepting the new organ and everything?”
“Looks like so, but the doctor says it’ll take a while to be sure. Only God knows.”
“Well, that’s promising,” I say as we pull up.
“Jesus loves you,” she kisses me on the cheek after paying. For a few minutes, I almost feel like it’s true.
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