Two things, cabbie
Sep. 28th, 2008 08:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringA couple, waiting on the nightrank. Most cabbies were long abed on this bleak Thursday morning somewhere around one in the morning, so these passengers were glad to find a warm cab and a smiling driver. They settled happily into the back seat and we headed off.
I had Dire Straits playing on the iPhone.
“Oooh, that’s so cool!” she chirped. A common reaction to seeing a music video playing in my taxi.
“Ahh, this is one of those iCabs”, I replied, making up a word and a business model on the moment.
“Awesome!”
She was in a chatty mood and we had a pleasant drive of it, speeding west along Barry Drive, empty at this hour, six busy lanes twice a day. She wanted to travel, and I guess I overwhelmed her a bit when I named the thirteen countries I’d visited just this year. Maybe she saw me as a fount of wisdom and general knowledge, a general characteristic of taxidrivers of a certain age.
“Tell me, Mister Taxidriver,” she said, “what would you say are the two most important things in life?”
I considered for a moment.
“The smile of a beautiful woman,” I responded, flashing a glance into the back seat.
She laughed. “And...”
“...And the first cry of a newborn baby.”
I guess that I’m just a hopeless romantic. Truth is that I’ve been sighing with happiness for an internet friend of mine. A year or so ago this young lady - a very beautiful, clever, artistic and funny young lady we’ll call Audrey - was very down. Her long-time boyfriend had left her, she was living in rickety rental accommodation in one of the dodgier areas of South London, her shaky job was barely paying expenses, and about all she had was the love of family and friends. Which only went so far towards putting bread on the table.
About the same time, Roy, another of my internet friends, an Irish professional man, was likewise low. He had broken up with his wife, he had moved out of the family home and was living by himself in a flat, he only got to see his three children every second week, and to cap it all off, when I ran into him at a community gathering in Charleston, his mother had just died. We kept Roy drunk for a day until a flight home to Dublin could be arranged, poured him onto the plane and followed up with emails.
You can see where this is heading, I guess. Maybe it was a matter of email love, or maybe they liked each other’s blogs, but Audrey and Roy got together. Roy was spending every second weekend flying to London to be with Audrey. They met each other’s families, they hit it off, they fell in love.
Audrey vacated her London home, helped Roy find a quaint farmhouse outside Dublin, they moved in together, she began working in his office, and I guess work mixed with pleasure, because their blogs turned from depression to elation, smiles appeared in photographs, and in due course Audrey announced that she was pregnant.
I saw the happy couple in London at another gathering. Audrey glowed with happiness. There was no shortage of smiles for her. Roy beamed with pleasure and pride.
And a day ago, the waiting was over. Roy’s blog exploded with happiness, and here was a picture of mother and freshly-hatched daughter, smiles all round.
I do love a romantic story. Sometimes real life is as good as a film or a novel. Better.
“A smile and a cry. Those are good ones”, my lady passenger said. “I picked travel and food!”
“Nothing wrong with those either,” I replied. I live for travel, and my waistline is a little too tubby to deny a fondness for food.
I pulled up at a nightclub, and looked into the back seat as they paid me and got out. She flashed me a smile, and I was happy.
And now I’m going to go badger my own children about offspring. It’s been far too long since I felt a pudgy little hand in mine, skipping together along the street to buy sweets. They’ve grown too old and dignified for such nonsense.
I had Dire Straits playing on the iPhone.
“Oooh, that’s so cool!” she chirped. A common reaction to seeing a music video playing in my taxi.
“Ahh, this is one of those iCabs”, I replied, making up a word and a business model on the moment.
“Awesome!”
She was in a chatty mood and we had a pleasant drive of it, speeding west along Barry Drive, empty at this hour, six busy lanes twice a day. She wanted to travel, and I guess I overwhelmed her a bit when I named the thirteen countries I’d visited just this year. Maybe she saw me as a fount of wisdom and general knowledge, a general characteristic of taxidrivers of a certain age.
“Tell me, Mister Taxidriver,” she said, “what would you say are the two most important things in life?”
I considered for a moment.
“The smile of a beautiful woman,” I responded, flashing a glance into the back seat.
She laughed. “And...”
“...And the first cry of a newborn baby.”
I guess that I’m just a hopeless romantic. Truth is that I’ve been sighing with happiness for an internet friend of mine. A year or so ago this young lady - a very beautiful, clever, artistic and funny young lady we’ll call Audrey - was very down. Her long-time boyfriend had left her, she was living in rickety rental accommodation in one of the dodgier areas of South London, her shaky job was barely paying expenses, and about all she had was the love of family and friends. Which only went so far towards putting bread on the table.
About the same time, Roy, another of my internet friends, an Irish professional man, was likewise low. He had broken up with his wife, he had moved out of the family home and was living by himself in a flat, he only got to see his three children every second week, and to cap it all off, when I ran into him at a community gathering in Charleston, his mother had just died. We kept Roy drunk for a day until a flight home to Dublin could be arranged, poured him onto the plane and followed up with emails.
You can see where this is heading, I guess. Maybe it was a matter of email love, or maybe they liked each other’s blogs, but Audrey and Roy got together. Roy was spending every second weekend flying to London to be with Audrey. They met each other’s families, they hit it off, they fell in love.
Audrey vacated her London home, helped Roy find a quaint farmhouse outside Dublin, they moved in together, she began working in his office, and I guess work mixed with pleasure, because their blogs turned from depression to elation, smiles appeared in photographs, and in due course Audrey announced that she was pregnant.
I saw the happy couple in London at another gathering. Audrey glowed with happiness. There was no shortage of smiles for her. Roy beamed with pleasure and pride.
And a day ago, the waiting was over. Roy’s blog exploded with happiness, and here was a picture of mother and freshly-hatched daughter, smiles all round.
I do love a romantic story. Sometimes real life is as good as a film or a novel. Better.
“A smile and a cry. Those are good ones”, my lady passenger said. “I picked travel and food!”
“Nothing wrong with those either,” I replied. I live for travel, and my waistline is a little too tubby to deny a fondness for food.
I pulled up at a nightclub, and looked into the back seat as they paid me and got out. She flashed me a smile, and I was happy.
And now I’m going to go badger my own children about offspring. It’s been far too long since I felt a pudgy little hand in mine, skipping together along the street to buy sweets. They’ve grown too old and dignified for such nonsense.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-28 11:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-28 03:08 pm (UTC):O)
audrey
Date: 2008-09-28 10:20 pm (UTC)Re: audrey
Date: 2008-09-28 11:46 pm (UTC)Beauty, when you get down to it, is skin-deep. What really counts is below the surface. And our "Audrey" runs very deep indeed.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 05:26 am (UTC)http://www.ravensroads.com/contact.php <-- and we'll go to email from there. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 06:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 08:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-30 02:54 am (UTC)