I know I said it was finished, but recent events reminded me of something that I feel is worth sharing here.
Union Station in Joliet has a ballroom on the top level. During nice weather they often have wedding receptions up there. So on a nice Friday or Saturday night, if you are sitting at the train you may not only get a commuter, you may also even get a wedding goer that wants to leave.
I pulled up into the horseshoe about 20 minutes before the next train and a man in a tux was outside with a woman in an elegant black gown, they seemed to be having a fight, so I pulled up.
The man waved at me and I lowered the window.
"Hey, can I get a ride to Oak Park?"
Oak Park can be around $150. So I smiled and unlocked the door.
"Of course, hop in."
I radioed to dispatch the address he gave me to let them know I would be out of town and away we went.
"Women," he remarked.
"Bad night with your date?" I asked.
"You have no idea."
He then got on the phone and was in a conversation with someone who from the sounds of it was his wife and she was definitely at home and not the woman at the train station. None of my business. It is a $150 fare. After he got off the phone with her in what seemed to be not a good conversation he asked me,"So if I changed the address to Frankin Park, would that be okay?"
"You bet." If we made this destination change, we are looking at another $20. "What is the address."
He gave me the address. I recognized it. I had dated the resident of that address. Small friggin world, but that was not the woman at the train station. I heard him on his cell phone talking to a woman and I could hear her voice. It was her. Huh. They were arguing too. By the end of the conversation he was begging her to let him come over. But she did not want his company and he hung up and was in tears.
"What's your name, cab driver?" he asked in tears.
"Patrick," I said, "and you?"
"Randy." He sniffled.
"Sorry you are having such a rough night Randy. So, no Franklin Park?"
"No, Oak Park.," he said. More crying.
"Patrick," he said after a point,"I just don't understand pussy. Ya know?"
"Pussy?" I asked.
"Women." he said.
"We have a lot in common, Patrick. I am a good looking guy. You are a good looking guy. We're both hard working and make great money. Why can't they see this in guys like us? Why?"
I felt my temper boiling. I really wanted to hold my tongue. This is a great fare, but I loathed him. I heard the words coming out of my mouth.
"What?" he asked. I was silent. "What did you say?"
"We are nothing alike, Randy. Not a goddamn thing is alike about us. And if there is, then may we both burn in hell."
"What are you saying?"
"Look," I said,"I'm not the one going home to my wife with a dripping dick from my adventure at a wedding with a twenty something blonde who then has to figure out if he is gonna go to his wife in what I am sure is a very large home as I know that area or my girlfriend who for a quick poke regardless of the fact her daughter will be home..."
"How did you know she has...."
"Shut up, Randy. I cannot fathom how you want to have love and affection when women are nothing but pussy to you. I don't make a lot of money Randy and I am pretty sure I kissed my tip goodbye just now, but fuck man. Ya know. I used to be like you. I had a 4 bedroom house on a corner lot and made mistakes. But even at my worst as a husband, I could never hold a candle to you. You are in a league of your own, man. I don't get to decide which pussy I am gonna sleep with tonight. I am going to go home tonight at around 4 am...maybe 5 and I am gonna collapse into a futon mattress on a homemade bed frame with loose slats, because that is the kind of coin I am raking in asshole! At around dawn I am gonna pop on a podcast and go to sleep only to wake up again, shower, and deal with shit heads like you who think lives are meaningless and hearts are disposable to assuage their fucked up little narcissistic ego. "
"Why do you go home by yourself?"
"Because there was a time I would have thought a guy like you is keen and a lonely bed with cold sheets is what that kind of mindset deserves, not a wife and kids in a palace in Oak park."
"Fuck you Patrick. Just drop me off at the Denny's at the next exit."
He cried some more. We pulled in.
"$82." I said flatly.
He gave me $100 and told me to keep it. I used my counterfeit pen detector and when he saw that he wanted exact change.
I shook the whole way home in anger that I could not explain.