My father-in-law sat back in his chair. He'd had his knees replaced. He had a titanium rod in his arm so he couldn't bend his wrist. He'd been patched up an untold number of times, been through hell, old age was clearly catching up to him, but he wasn't licked yet.
"When my kids were little," he said, "I worked two jobs. I'd work for the telephone company during the day, then at night I'd drive a taxi.
"Now when you're a taxi driver, you see everything. There's these ladies who want to go to the hospital. They're lonely, and they go to the hospital so someone pays attention to them. They'll flag you down, dressed up all pretty, acting just fine, and give you an address that makes you drive by the hospital. Then when they pass it they act like they're having a stroke. 'Aarrgglglglhhh! Take me to the hospital!' But every cab driver knows, Don't Take Them In. You see, if you take someone into the hospital, the hospital makes you sign for them, and then you have to pay the bill. Ah, that's how they get you, you see.
"So what did you do?"
"Well, I'd try to get them to pay their tab, then get out and just set them down on the curb and drive away. It sounds cold-hearted, but that's what you gotta do.
"How do they get home?"
"I don't know, they probably walk. They aren't really lame, see, they're just acting that way so the nurses will fuss over them.
"There was another time, I picked up this ugly Mexican. I mean, THIS guy, was UGLY! Slash on his face, shaved head, eyepatch, piece of his ear missing, huge muscles, tattoos EVERYWHERE. And this guy, he says, you go to this bar. So I take him to this bar. He says, wait right here.
And he goes into the bar, then everyone in the bar runs out. Then he comes out again, and says, you go to this next bar. Now, this guy's making me nervous. But I go. He goes into the next bar, same thing: he goes in, everyone runs out, he comes out again. He gets in the cab and says go to another bar.
Now, I'm scared. This guy could slit me open, wouldn't think a thing of it. But it looks like maybe he's making me an accomplice to knocking over bars. I could go to jail. And the meter's ticking, you know. I could be getting paid by regular customers. I work up my nerve, and say 'No. This is enough. You pay me now, I don't want any more of this.'
"This Mexican, he sits back. Looks shocked. He's squinting at me with his one eye, thinking. I'm thinking, this could be my last day on earth. Then he give me this big smile. He says, 'You know, I LIKE you. You're a good guy. You just drive me to this one more bar, I'll get some money, and I'll make sure you get what you're due.'
"So I drive him to the next bar. He gets out and as soon as he goes in the bar, I take off. And that was that. Never heard of him again."
"You just left him there? You didn't get paid?"
"Well what would you have done? I figured I was better off getting out of it alive."