Suzie bounded ahead of me towards the taxi and sat in the back. It was a short drive to her apartment just north of the University of Louisville. We made small talk, and it quickly became apparent that Suzie was a dancer. Dancers were regular customers of mine on the night shift (and were some of the best tippers.)
I pulled up to a row of red brick apartment buildings on Hill St. and waited while Suzie safely entered the apartment. I sat there a few more minutes while I completed the log that the city ordinance required for each trip, noting the end time of the run and the destination address. I turned to reach the switch on the dome light while thinking about where to look for my next fare. Turning, I noticed the scarf Suzie had carried stuck between the back seat and the door. I thought for a moment. Did I see which door she entered? Yes, it was the one to the left. I turned off the cab and walked up to her door with her scarf in my hand.
I knocked on the door and stood for a moment. I could hear shuffling behind the door, but no one answered. I knocked again, starting to get impatient. A woman’s voice bellowed out from behind the door, “I have a gun!” The sound of the action of an automatic handgun followed. “I, I, I, have your scarf. You, you, you left it in the cab,” I managed to blurt out, wondering if I was going to pee in my pants. The door opened about eight inches, and Suzie stared at me from behind the barrel of a .45 caliber automatic. “Oh, thank you, honey,” Suzie said, lowering the weapon and snatching the scarp from my outstretched hand.
I pulled up to a row of red brick apartment buildings on Hill St. and waited while Suzie safely entered the apartment. I sat there a few more minutes while I completed the log that the city ordinance required for each trip, noting the end time of the run and the destination address. I turned to reach the switch on the dome light while thinking about where to look for my next fare. Turning, I noticed the scarf Suzie had carried stuck between the back seat and the door. I thought for a moment. Did I see which door she entered? Yes, it was the one to the left. I turned off the cab and walked up to her door with her scarf in my hand.
I knocked on the door and stood for a moment. I could hear shuffling behind the door, but no one answered. I knocked again, starting to get impatient. A woman’s voice bellowed out from behind the door, “I have a gun!” The sound of the action of an automatic handgun followed. “I, I, I, have your scarf. You, you, you left it in the cab,” I managed to blurt out, wondering if I was going to pee in my pants. The door opened about eight inches, and Suzie stared at me from behind the barrel of a .45 caliber automatic. “Oh, thank you, honey,” Suzie said, lowering the weapon and snatching the scarp from my outstretched hand.
