On Thursday Rachelle and I took a cab down to Union Station in order catch our train to Montreal. It was in the middle of a punishing heat wave and it was rush hour, which meant that everybody on the road was frayed, tense and inching ever closer to exploding into a kind of psychosis. To compound this situation we were running late, and I was putting pressure on our cab driver to do all sorts of reckless and inconsiderate things in order to get us to the station on time.
“Don’t mind the light!”
“Turn here, over the curb, don’t be such a pussy!”
“Just bump him with your fender, give him a message!”
“Go through the construction, they’re wearing hardhats for God’s sake, they’ll be fine!
Useful stuff like that.
If I was upsetting the driver he didn’t show it. Like some vessel of superhuman tranquility he proceeded in accordance with the rules of the road while calmly reassuring me that he would get us there on time.
And then he accidentally cut another car off.
The driver looked exactly like Bam Margera from the Jackass films and he did not take the slight well. Screeching about in various stunt man maneuvers, he managed to pull even with our cab. Smoking a cigarette, he stuck his head out the window with eyes bulging and screamed,
“Why do you have to drive like such a fucking asshole, you fucking asshole!”
It wasn’t really a question.
His vitriol, aimed at the cab driver and not us, passed through me. Not sure what to do, I made a vague gesture that suggested a kind of neutrality. When the words hit our driver, he just closed his eyes briefly– as if saying a prayer– and saying nothing stared straight ahead.
The Bam Margera guy, mistaking my neutral gesture as a kind of agreement with him, continued to shout through the open windows of the cars, now trying to have a conversation with me about what an asshole our driver was.
“I bet the guy can’t even speak English, “ he yelled over at me, smiling. And then in a louder, harsher voice, hollered, “You’re not an immigrant, you’re an ignorant!” and then he broke into great peels of laughter.
I lost it at this point, and without thinking took a piece of the Kit Kat bar I had been eating and I hurled it through my window at the guy, hitting him on the side of the neck. And then for reasons that will always remain mysterious, yelled, “I’ve got great aim, I could hit you with shit all day long!”
Our driver shook his head, “I wish you had not done that,” he said before pulling swiftly away. We thought we were free, having lost the guy in the snarl of traffic, but about two minutes later he pulled up beside us again. Taking a bite from the Kit Kat I had just hit him with, he yelled, “Thanks for the chocolate you asshole! It’s a little bit soft from the heat, but it’s still good!” and then he sped away laughing.