The Door on a Beach [EDITING]

Chapter 3: Larry ✔

The cab driver was none too happy to be driving both me, my bags and a door across the island, which is why I suspected the fare was so high, but didn't say anything to the beast of a man in the drivers seat. The whole drive was this, me in the backseat, listening to his leering to crawl into the front for a bit of conversation. When it became apparent that I was not about to get within arms length of that man, he decided he would carry on with the conversation bit while looking at me through the rear view mirror. 

His name was Larry, a fact I wrote down in my mental list of stereotypical cab driver names, making Larry the most used, but only by one so it was likely to go down to second quickly. 

Larry liked to talk about the weather. I liked to talk about how the weather could be affecting the visitation of aliens from alternate atmospheres. Larry liked to talk about traffic. I liked to talk about how traffic is much more comparable to the thought process than a train is. 

This, to anyone just as sane as I am, this would make perfect sense. To Larry, this was utter nonsense, which therefore implies that he's a bit on the crazy side if you ask me.  It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that me and Larry did not get along and talking very obvious annoyed the both of us, only I painted myself a smile. Larry simply huffed and tried a topic even more basic than the last, eventually trying to leer me to the front seat again before arriving to the colourful house that had to have been my destination. 

The house itself had an overall homey feel to it, something I picked up on before even getting out of the taxi, but only because he wouldn't even let me take my seatbelt off without paying first. 

I yanked delicately at the bungee cords holding my door to the roof, stuffing them in my pockets as they dislodged themselves. Larry didn't help me with my suitcase either so I figured if I knew how to do an online survey, this guy would only get two and a half stars, reasoning that he attempted conversation and let me bungee the door, so he wasn't deserving of a singular star alone. 

My stuff was laid in the driveway, just far enough from the car for him to drive away with me resisting the urge to flip him off for his rude behaviour. He probably had other people to talk to, other girls to drive, others money to collect so she couldn't blame his rushed exit. He has probably had too many unhappy or just plain rude customers when it came to paying him and handling their stuff that it was easier for him to just drive away. I couldn't blame him for something the world had done to him.