the taxi driver

This month I traveled from Philadelphia to Raleigh on Southwest Airlines. I didn’t know there’s a train going to the airport (I’ve lots to learn about this city where there’s so much to do and friendly people everywhere ready to give advice), and since my flight was an early Sunday morning one, I decided to flag a taxi. And so a wonderful, witty person slipped into my life for 15 minutes by way of a taxi. He had radiant, happy eyes, a big smile, and was very unlike the last taxi driver who relished talking about the crime in Philadelphia. When just that month you’ve moved to Philadelphia you don’t want to hear about the crime. Yes, you know it exists, but no need to be in a taxi with a driver obsessed with the topic. This last taxi driver from Africa was entirely different. His story was of being misdiagnosed when he went to a doctor, and spending one agonizing week alone worrying about his wife and two young children, before realizing that maybe he should go for a second opinion. A really good idea as the second doctor said nothing was wrong with him. The funny part of the story was what went on inside his head during the week he thought he was dying. He was laughing out loud funny, and that’s the way I got out of the taxi – lol.