The better part of my morning and the entirety of my afternoon was spent on Primo’s scheduled vet exam. Primo in tow is the only way I can sanely reason taking a cab anywhere. His insulin supply was near non-existent and I had spent the previous days of the week calling around to various vets near and far. A harrowing experience that is best left un-typed (more for me than you). A game of phone tag that left me grateful for the time I spent within the business and the knowledge I had gained. Primo and I are nearing 4 yrs since he first crashed diabetic. In cat years, we‘re ol‘ pros. “$149 for a full panel work up? What tests that consist of? Umm hmm ….Ah umm hmm ….Umm hmm …Yeah, he’s already had this, he’s already had that, this is updated and he doesn’t need that for another two years.”
With my cellular daytime minutes already burning, I leveled out the handful of calls with my husband.
Brian: “Honey, you didn’t break Primo’s pancreas.”
Me: “It’s the recession.”
Brian: “Primo’s pancreas was the first to be laid-off!”
As Primo and I sat in the small, ill-lit vet office it was clear that I would be handling my own cat. The assistant excused herself and the vet started in on the exam. The exam that was only needed in order for her to write a script for his pre-existing condition. Much to Primo and I’s relief, she opted to wave taking his temperature and kept any cutesy talk to a minimum.When all was said and done, Primo’s insulin was ordered and due within 2 days. I was out a quarter of my monthly rent and both Primo and I wanted to hiss at passerby. Per usual when it comes time to see the vet, I spend most of the time apologizing up and down to Primo, with his vindictive green eyes.
“I’m sorry, Prim. I’m so sorry. We’ll be home soon, I promise. I’m so sorry. Go ahead, hate the world. You’ve earned it. I love you, though. Mom is going to figure it all out.”
As the cab pulled into rush hour traffic, I sat in a daze by my own worn reflection. I blinked as I heard something from the front seat.
Me: “What? Sorry.”
Cab Driver: “Beautiful day, no?”
Me: “Oo yes …A beautiful day.”
Cab Driver: “I think it’s going to rain later, though.”
Me: “I bet that’s good for business.”
Cab Driver: “Business? What business?”
Me: “Ah, the rain. I bet it’s good for cabbies.”
Cab Driver: [laugh] “Ah not so much.”
I kept my glance fixated on his Bono-shades in the rearview mirror, trying to find his eyes.
Cab Driver: “It’s not so good business rain or shine but it is a job.”
Me: “That’s true.”
Cab Driver: “I think there is a game, today. Beautiful day for a game. That is good business.”
[we weaved throughout traffic passing Wrigley Field]
Me: “The Sox played last night …The Orioles …in Baltimore. They lost.”
Cab Driver: “Oo ok, the Sox.”
Me: “10-3”
[I stared back at my reflection: Shut up, self.]
Cab Driver: “I am from communist country. I’ve been here for 18 yrs.”
Me: “Oo? You’ve been driving a cab for 18 yrs.?”
[And now for the cabbie reveals his soul to me portion of the trip]
Cab Driver: “No. I’ve been driving a cab for 3 yrs. I’m a musician, you see? I’m a musician and I’m from Romania. In Romania, even with communism they treat their musicians and artists with respect. You can make a bit of money …But in America, it’s the other way around. No respect. No money. You are not under communism but you know …I didn’t mind the communism that much. I made money.”
Me: “Ah, yeah …So why did you move here?”
Cab Driver: “I came here 18 yrs ago to see my favorite band. I never wanted to come here but rock band Van Halen …I wanted to see them. So a friend and I came here to see them play. I’m a classical guitar player.”
Me: “Ah …Yeah, Eddie Van Halen is quite the guitarist.”
Cab Driver: “You know Eddie Van Halen! Yes! He is very good! …So I came here and I never went back …You see all of these shops and restaurants? Wine bars? People spending thousands of dollars in one night and they are all the same.”
Me: “Yeah …”
Cab Driver: “See, I spend money at places that are special. You get a special experience. But this ….It’s all the same. I never wanted to come here.”
Me: “But you wanted to see Van Halen …”
Cab Driver: “Well, yes …I’m a musician and I got all mixed up with the drugs and the drink. Coke. You know what they do? You think it’s just marijuana and you say sure, I’ll have some marijuana but do you know what they do?”
Me: “What’s that?”
Cab Driver: “They put the coke in the marijuana so you think you’re just smoking the marijuana but you get hooked to the coke. That’s what happened to me. I was with this girl. Beautiful …like you. I loved her very much but she got hooked on the coke and she wouldn’t stop.”
[We were hitting every red light]
Primo: “Meow.”
Cab Driver: “I stopped and started driving a cab for money. She didn’t and I said goodbye. It was sad. She was crying but I had to do it.”
Me: “Yeah …I can imagine.”
Cab Driver: “I never wanted to come here but I drive a cab and it’s a job. Americans don’t understand money. My country had a civil war and so did this country but nothing change. America still has the same people in power.”
Me: “Yeah …”
Cab Driver: [holds up hand] “The Jews control the money. There are 5 Jews in charge of all money and that never changes. They get control of everything. They tried in my country and they play theater to Americans and Americans don’t understand. Did we pass Carmen yet?”
Me: “Almost …Next street north.”
[I looked at my reflection …Do I play the Jew-card or not? No, I’m too tired.]
Cab Driver: “Ok, very good.”
Me: “You can pull to the side right here …Thank you very much. I’ll hope for rain, for you.”
Cab Driver: [laughs] “I thank you! Have good day!”
I pulled the strap to Primo’s carrier over my shoulder and pulled out my cell phone, as we made our way home.
“Honey! I just got out of the cab and the cab- Yeah, Primo’s ok, he’s a bit upset but we made it …But honey, the cab driver …”
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