One Hundred Letters for James

008

008:

Cab drivers

I know I've probably made it sound like all we ever had was bad times, and I'm sorry. I'll get to the good stuff now.

Remember that time when you took me shopping for my sixteenth? Neither of us had a car, so we had gotten a cab to the mall.

"So what are you going to buy at the mall, Kathleen?" You had asked, wrapping your arm around my shoulder as we sat in that unbelievably smelly cab.

"Maybe something from Victoria's Secret," I said, enjoying how you became stiff at my words. "Kidding!"

"Oh thank God." You breathed. I started laughing hysterically at your tomato red face.

"Hey, keep it down back there!" The driver had yelled at us. You pursed your lips to refrain from laughing. I burst once again at your constipated expression. "I said, keep it down! I will stop this car!" He turned to look at us from the front seat.

"Um, sir?" You asked.

"What?" He said, still glaring at us.

"The road."

The driver quickly turned back to the street, screaming "Shit!" when we almost hit another car. We both started howling with laughter.

"That's it!" The driver yelled, slamming on the breaks. "Out." He pointed at the door beside me.

"But, sir," I protested.

"Out!"

We scrambled out of the cab, both of us landing on our butts on the sidewalk.

"What a bitch." You said. We both started laughing again. We stood up, realizing that we had no idea where we were.

And that is how we got lost in our own city.