There Is a World Elsewhere

Conrad had another two hours on his shift. Manhattan would be hoppin for business right now. He pressed on through the lights and the traffic. The never ending lights and traffic. Twenty seven years of lights and traffic. A couple of good pick-ups and he'd be set for the night. No one too fancy-dressed. They don't tip so great. Not like they could. But not the junkies neither. They were no good.

Twenty seven fucking years. He eyeballed a dame stepping out onto the road. A big-hatted black guy in platform shoes stepped out of the shadows behind her. Conrad flipped his in-use light on. "Not tonight," he said. "Not you two."

The good pick-ups were the middle aged couples who weren't likely married. The guy always tried to throw a little money around, peacocking his way into her panties. Might as well be the catcher and enjoy some of it. He also liked pick-ups that were alone. Better conversation. He could talk about the ball games with the guys. He knew the ball games and the stats and the players and could really get a conversation going with them. Lots of stuff to talk about.

Three rides done and his taxi turned in, Conrad unlocked and walked into his apartment.

"Ma?!" He closed and locked the door using all three lock devices. "Ma!" The hallway light was off. "Ma? You wouldn't believe that last prick I picked up. What a jackass. He wasn't headed no where so I thought I'd offer him a cup of coffee." Conrad set his stuff on the narrow hallway table, unbuttoned his shirt, wiped the bald part of his head dry, and headed to the fridge.

"Ma, that last jackass was a real jackass. A real jackass. Stopped for a cup of coffee and I'm buyin, ya know, and we're talkin and he just walks off." He grabbed a beer out of the fridge, caught the door halfway closed and grabbed a second beer. Easier that way. Twenty seven years of driving a fucking cab. Not like tonight he's going to change tonight. "I might have said a couple things, but he just walked the fuck out, Ma. Thought going to a game later'd be fun, ya know."

The television on, he flipped through channels. "Anyway, what did he know. He was just a jackass." American Bandstand. What a bunch of pussies. That wasn't for him. A bunch of movin and groovin. He moved and grooved in his television chair.

"Did I tell you about the chick I picked up tonight, Ma?" Conrad sat back in his chair, opened and downed half the first beer. He smiled at the wall. "Yeah, Ma. She was nice. Tall blonde, real leggy, ya know. She had a boyfriend with her but when I pulled up she jumped in my taxi and closed the door and we took off."

He finished his beer. The television was showing a Ford Galaxie commercial. Then it switched to Michael Douglas in a shirt and tie in front of a desk making convincing hand motions and dialogue with someone. "Ma? Do ya think it really is nicer out in San Francisco, Ma? Like really nicer- ya know? The guys were talking about it at work. We should move, maybe. Might be nice."

The television showed its show. He went back to the fridge for another- no, two more, beers. He finished taking off his overshirt. The television showed Valerie Harper in New York City. What a crock. Who'd come here and stay. He finished his first of his second round of beers. Seriously, what a crock.

He watched some more television. At some point, sitting in his chair, beer in hand, he was staring at the floor. He wasn't smiling. "It's what I do, Ma. Ya know? What the fuck does he know anyway?"

Bad ideas. Bad ideas in his head. "I got some bad ideas in my head, ya know, Ma. I got some bad ideas. What the hell does he think he means? Bad ideas." The second/fourth beer went down faster than the first/third. "Ya know what I ought to do, Ma, is take another shift. Maybe I'll go in early or something. Maybe get some money and get the air cooling turned back on for ya, ya know?"

Another trip to the fridge. The last two beers. "Ma? I'm drinking the last two beers, Ma."

The television showed another show. Conrad flipped some more channels. He stared longer at the floor. "I like my taxi, Ma. Maybe that's why I do it. I like this chair, ya know? I'm not gonna stop sittin in this chair just cause I get a bad idea." What the fuck is a bad idea anyway? "What could he do? What could anyone do? We got our taxis. That's what we do. Ya know? Ma?"

The floor was interesting to him again.

"I gotta tell the guys tomorrow about that leggy blonde. That's why they call me the Wizard, Ma, cause I can hook up with the dames like that. That's why I like my taxi, cause they're jumping all over me in it. I can't keep them off me, Ma."

Conrad sat back in his chair and contrasted the floor with the ceiling, looking up at the very not real blonde and smiling at her smiling back at him. "I'd tell you what that blonde and I did, Ma, but you wouldn't want to hear. I'm not your good boy, ya know." I do things.

He put the last empty beer can on the side table and knocked a small stack of books onto the floor. The Problems of Philosophy looked back up at him from the floor. Conrad didn't see it. He stared at the slowly fading ceiling.

Time passed.

It was early morning.

Conrad got out of his chair and found the bathroom. He tossed down four aspirins, pissed, sniffed his armpits, sprayed something on them, rinsed his mouth with listerine, farted, and blew his nose into the sink one nostril at a time.

"Ma, think you can get some beer today? Maybe do a little shoppin?" He found the shirt and jacket he took off yesterday. "This place don't look so great, Ma. You're not ever gonna meet none of my lady friends with the place lookin like this, Ma. I'm always workin. You gotta help me out, ya know?" He turned off the lights and locked the door behind him.

The morning was bright. Kids played. He headed up the street and stopped at the corner for a coffee. "Yeah, ya know, I had a great night. Coupla girls needed a ride to a party. One of them all girl things, ya know. I went in for a bit. Did my thing." He slid the coffee guy an extra fifty cents. "They even paid me. I'd say I didn't believe it but it happens too often."

Coffee guy smiled and nodded. Conrad continued up the street. A young man snuck out of a doorway and paced him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Conrad looked around. "I can't be seen with you. What the fuck."

"I need some cash, man. Anything." The young man reached out to take Conrad's hand.

"Jesus Christ. Not here. Not now. Get the fuck away from me. People watch me, ya know." Conrad walked faster. He drank his coffee faster.

The young man kept up, pulled along with a bungee-like need.

"The taxi. Later. Maybe." Conrad pushed the young man off. "Just get away from me. I'm not into that anyway. Never was. I don't know what you were thinking. What the fuck." He headed across the street. The bungee broke.

"Morning fellas." Conrad refilled his coffee in the cabbie area.

"I thought you weren't working til later," someone said.

"Nah. Can't make the money spending all my time doing projects for the homeless, ya know. Gotta make some money for myself. Thought I'd give Killer some time off. Some dame he wants to see."

"She as hot as any of your's?" someone laughed.

Conrad sat back in his chair and smiled at the ceiling. "Nah. Not as hot as any of mine. Especially this leggy blonde from last night. I'll tell ya, I'm lucky I can walk today."

"Oh yeah?" someone said. A couple of the guys pulled up chairs for story time.

"Times like last night are why I like this job, ya know. It's why I like my taxi. It's like a magnet for the dames. You shoulda seen this one all but jump in through the window last night, while I was driving. She jumped in and…"

Everyone listened.