Bladder Trouble

You've been been taking the one digit fares all night, one after another and you've made your nut and your gas, but it's almost ten o'clock, and you're halfway through the shift. If something good doesn't happen soon it's not going to be a good night.

Car needed on Capitol Hill.

This is 91, I'm on Capital Hill.

Take it 91.

The call is from the rehab center. They're pushing someone out the door just as you drive up. He sees the car and gets inside. His skin is dark and his hair is grey, parted down the middle and braided. He might look like a skid row bum but he puts a hundred dollars on the seat.

How long will this keep me warm? he says.

Couple of hours maybe. I can take you to a motel if you like. With money like that you...

The money is wet to the touch. You pull your hand back and smell it. It's exactly what you think it is, and now you understand everything.

Take me to see some sights, he says. What do you suggest?

Alki point is pretty nice. Good view this time of night.

Never been out to Alki Point. Sounds like just the place.

You head for the freeway, going south.

They fucking threw me out, he says. I go in for a drying out, instead they give me a tossing out.

They didn't have no reason for it?

Hell if they did.

Well, they shouldn't have done it then, should they?

Glad we're eye to eye on that.

You turn off I-5 and head for West Seattle. Pretty soon you're at Alki Point. You pull into the turnout and stop.

The downtown office towers are all lit up against the night sky.

Damn, that's a beautiful sight, he says. Sure is peaceful out here, too.

I always like to come out here. Don't get the chance too often.

You sit there in silence for several minutes, just soaking it all in.

Yep, sure is peaceful, he says on occasion.

You just let him enjoy it until he's finished his reverie.

Take me back downtown, he says. Gotta find a buddy of mine.

Where do you want to go?

He hangs out in Bell town. Up near Denny Way.

Let's go find him then, you say.

You head downtown by the viaduct and drop the fare in an alley between first and western. He returns with a sinister cuss who can't be much older than twenty. How someone that young ends up on the streets like that you can barely imagine. But you're not so far from there yourself, so you're not in a position to judge. The older man seems to be okay, so you let the young one ride.

They ask you for a convenience store that isn't a major brand. The sinister one goes in and comes back out with a brown paper bag.

Take us anywhere you like, the fare says.

They open the bottle and pass it between them.

You figure you'll circle Queen Anne Hill, to use up some miles fast. So, you head north past the grain elevators, where the wheat gets shipped to the far east, past the auto import lot, where the Japanese cars come in, until you come to Ballard Bridge, where all the fishing boats are docked. You turn right on Nickerson, and head southeast along the ship canal. Your passengers are still guzzling beer and talking in tones that you can't hear, and you don't like the sound of it. You turn on Westlake heading south, back towards downtown.

Where are we now? the fare says.

We're on our way back downtown.

Take us to the Seven Eleven, he says.

You mean the one on Denny?

That'll do, he says.

You take another right on Denny and turn into the lot. The fare sends the kid on another errand.

Drive, he says. Take me up to Capitol Hill.

You're only too happy to comply.

What about the kid? you say, as you leave the lot.

Fuck'm, he says, he just wanted to roll you.

When you get to the base of Capital Hill, the fare says he'll get out.

But there's only eighty dollars on the meter, you say.

You'll have to change the seat, he says. That'll cost you some time.

I appreciate your consideration. Take good care out there, you say.

Gonna try to back in rehab, he says. And do it right this time.