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somebodyisfromhere.com
The destination destination.
Chapter Three: The Long Ride.
<<< The three or four blocks from Caesar's Casino in Atlantic City to the train station used to be dirty. Today it's lined with
outlet stores and is walkable, at least for fellas, in the latest of hours.
Flush with poker winnings, however, you simply decided you didn't feel like walking. It was past 2am, a work night, and you
had spent so much time at the table you weren't even certain your legs still worked.
You're sitting in the cab, tell the driver your destination, and commence small talk not quite looking forward to the train. You
live 50 minutes away, however so there's no real alternative.
Until, that is, you get to thinking.
You ask the cabbie, where was the furthest you ever drove a customer? Delaware, he says. There was more than one person
in that car though, so that has to be taken into consideration when comparing fares. Delaware is further than your house
though. On one hand, that makes you feel better. At least you're not that bad. Competitively, you are disappointed that if you
should chose to give in to impulse you wouldn't be the record setter.
Then you wonder what Donald Trump would do. A weird thought, you admit. You don't do that on other occasions. You don't
make financial decisions based on wondering what The Donald would do. You certainly don't stand in front of a mirror and
think, I wonder if i should comb my hair in the Trump way.
A.C. does funny things. Usually when you get in a cab you have less money than when your day started. Generally, in other
towns when getting into a cab, you would have spent money at a bar or restaurant or maybe you just got off a plane for which
you bought a pricey ticket. In A.C. though you find yourself with a crisp hundred dollar bill sitting in your pocket.
The driver meanwhile is still enroute to the train station. Make a right and you'd be at the station. Continue straight and hit the
Atlantic City Expressway towards Philadelphia. Philadelphia is about an hour down this road, your town is about fifty minutes.
"Keep going," you finally say. Donald may have had his own 'copter, but failing that, he would certainly have his own driver.
He wouldn't sit on a train. And why should you?
You're both aware that this will be like a short road trip. As such, you have to make yourself comfortable. At the last traffic light
before leaving town he asks if you want to sit in the front and you take him up on the offer. Forgoing formalities, and probably
a law or two, he asks if you mind if he smokes. You don't mind. You don't smoke cigarettes, like ever. You had one once like
three years ago, but by now, unless your interpretation is wrong, you've entered an unholy bond with your driver far closer to
Thelma & Louise than Driving Miss Daisy. Deciding you want to get your money's worth you ask for a cigarette. He let's you
pick the music.
You ask him to stop at a convenience store on the way home so you can get money. The crisp $100 will no longer do. Once
you get to your house he tells you the fare. Still, not enough so you borrow some from your brother.
Debt paid and everything is settled. Except you have work in two hours.
You ask for another cigarette.
outlet stores and is walkable, at least for fellas, in the latest of hours.
Flush with poker winnings, however, you simply decided you didn't feel like walking. It was past 2am, a work night, and you
had spent so much time at the table you weren't even certain your legs still worked.
You're sitting in the cab, tell the driver your destination, and commence small talk not quite looking forward to the train. You
live 50 minutes away, however so there's no real alternative.
Until, that is, you get to thinking.
You ask the cabbie, where was the furthest you ever drove a customer? Delaware, he says. There was more than one person
in that car though, so that has to be taken into consideration when comparing fares. Delaware is further than your house
though. On one hand, that makes you feel better. At least you're not that bad. Competitively, you are disappointed that if you
should chose to give in to impulse you wouldn't be the record setter.
Then you wonder what Donald Trump would do. A weird thought, you admit. You don't do that on other occasions. You don't
make financial decisions based on wondering what The Donald would do. You certainly don't stand in front of a mirror and
think, I wonder if i should comb my hair in the Trump way.
A.C. does funny things. Usually when you get in a cab you have less money than when your day started. Generally, in other
towns when getting into a cab, you would have spent money at a bar or restaurant or maybe you just got off a plane for which
you bought a pricey ticket. In A.C. though you find yourself with a crisp hundred dollar bill sitting in your pocket.
The driver meanwhile is still enroute to the train station. Make a right and you'd be at the station. Continue straight and hit the
Atlantic City Expressway towards Philadelphia. Philadelphia is about an hour down this road, your town is about fifty minutes.
"Keep going," you finally say. Donald may have had his own 'copter, but failing that, he would certainly have his own driver.
He wouldn't sit on a train. And why should you?
You're both aware that this will be like a short road trip. As such, you have to make yourself comfortable. At the last traffic light
before leaving town he asks if you want to sit in the front and you take him up on the offer. Forgoing formalities, and probably
a law or two, he asks if you mind if he smokes. You don't mind. You don't smoke cigarettes, like ever. You had one once like
three years ago, but by now, unless your interpretation is wrong, you've entered an unholy bond with your driver far closer to
Thelma & Louise than Driving Miss Daisy. Deciding you want to get your money's worth you ask for a cigarette. He let's you
pick the music.
You ask him to stop at a convenience store on the way home so you can get money. The crisp $100 will no longer do. Once
you get to your house he tells you the fare. Still, not enough so you borrow some from your brother.
Debt paid and everything is settled. Except you have work in two hours.
You ask for another cigarette.
Editor's Note: Somebodyisfromhere.com has recently dedicated a lot of thought to the idea of creating a narrative for his site. He likes his
individual pieces, but he wanted to find a way to string together a series of articles for those who were new to the site or for those who wanted to
explore a bit more thoroughly. Sure, the search option in the top corner of the front page works. Sure, he also tries to link old stories with
comparable new ones. Atop the first page, he created sections like entertainment, photos, etc. It's all golden. Yet, Somebodyisfromhere.com is
inexhaustible and he wanted more. So he came up with the "In Between Cabs..." section. Somebodyisfromhere.com has been in his share of
cabs. He's been in Mercedes cabs in Europe. He's been in those charming British boxes. He's been in the old yellows. He's been in cabs in
foreign countries where it's fairly standard to have to write down the address or otherwise you'll end up somewhere disastrously far off. More than
anything else, he just has some pretty bleepin' weird cab stores and, most importantly, he recognizes traveling is what happens in between cabs.
individual pieces, but he wanted to find a way to string together a series of articles for those who were new to the site or for those who wanted to
explore a bit more thoroughly. Sure, the search option in the top corner of the front page works. Sure, he also tries to link old stories with
comparable new ones. Atop the first page, he created sections like entertainment, photos, etc. It's all golden. Yet, Somebodyisfromhere.com is
inexhaustible and he wanted more. So he came up with the "In Between Cabs..." section. Somebodyisfromhere.com has been in his share of
cabs. He's been in Mercedes cabs in Europe. He's been in those charming British boxes. He's been in the old yellows. He's been in cabs in
foreign countries where it's fairly standard to have to write down the address or otherwise you'll end up somewhere disastrously far off. More than
anything else, he just has some pretty bleepin' weird cab stores and, most importantly, he recognizes traveling is what happens in between cabs.