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December 15, 2004

Speed kills, but it gets you to the airport lickety-split

I stayed up the night before we left because I get wound up before I go anywhere. I enjoy being someplace, but I don't particularly enjoy the time spent in cabs, airports and airplanes. When he arrived, the driver had a meth addict's smile, and driving habits to match. The Woman was still drying her hair when he arrived at 4:40, so I loaded the trunk and we left around 4:45 a.m.

As much in a hurry as he seemed to be, he didn't start the meter until she came downstairs and we got in the cab. We headed toward an artery that would take us out of the city, but the stop signs seemed to annoy him. "Maybe I should go another way, to get there faster?" he offered.

"The faster way is fine," she said. He cut the wheel sharply, and hit the gas.

The surface streets were foggy and slick, but he blithely ignored speed limits, zooming and decellerating when he'd miss each traffic light. I resisted the urge to tell him that if we went a constant rate of speed, we'd be likely to make more lights, but I didn't feel he was the type to take advice too well.

We're going 50+ mph on residential blocks, and though we had the road to ourselves, I was still a little tense. The Woman was somewhat meditative in the backseat with me, and didn't even reach for her seatbelt. Was she afraid to show weakness? I know it's foolish, but I didn't belt myself in, despite my concern. If she wasn't afeared, neither was I.

Still, I'll admit stomping an imaginary brake when we came over a hill at 60 and had to change lanes at the stop light a half-block after to avoid rear-ending an SUV.

On the freeway, I decided to look away from the spedometer when the needle hit 90. We arrived at the airport in about 17 minutes, which is usually a 25-30 minute trip, without traffic. I gave him $40, and felt my blood pressure drop as he sped away, possibly to his crank dealer.

Posted by Your Protagonist at December 15, 2004 02:16 PM