The Greatest Couple (in the universe)

[Pieces of Taxi ] jimmymankind@gmail.com ©

In the foggy cool of what otherwise would have been a hot summer’s night any place else (south of Nome) a snapping and pouting couple got in the taxi on a street of fine Italian restaurants.

Man first, he slides in from the right rear across the back seat to sit upright firmly pouting arms crossed over his heart like a wall behind me.

His mate, his mistress, maybe his wife, a partner on this nite’s team in this two-person team sport they’re playing, did the most graceful knee-swing entry and stretched for the door. I half wished I’d run around to close it for her. But I prefer to watch women move, so I did not help. In stead, I appreciated.

We are dancing on the open covers of our gaping tombs. Nevertheless, moments of beauty….

“You are stupid and should not have the right to any opinion,” her partner said.

An ominous void of silence followed, leaving me no other recourse but to say, “Could you sit on the other side, sir?”

“Beg yer pardon!”

“Men to the right rear, man.”

“What?!” he yelps.

“Well, if you’re a robber, you could kill me easily from there! Are you a robber?”

“He’s not that kind of robber,” she uttered calmly.

“Good then. Having cleared that up, where to, folks?”

After a few more dullish moments filled with the ostentatiousness of their neo-self-indulgent expressionlessism of pouting, she smiled into the rear view, and asked, “Why don’t you ask Mr. Know-it-all?”

OK. Yes.

“Well, sir?” I mumbled as I punched the meter.

After an inordinate pause, they hastily gave me both their addresses — leaving me to decide the matter.

So we cruised off to make the choice as we rolled along in silence.

A silence she soon broke by saying, “You are too stupid and should not have the right to any opinion.”

“Ha!” he went, unswayed by her retort, identical to his starter phrase.

“YOU are too stupid and should not have the right to an opinion!’ he blurted out warmly.

“You should not…!”

“You should not….”

“You…”

Suddenly, I had heard enough!

Forced to interject simply for my peace of mind — I felt some risk of becoming collateral damage — I recommended, “Why not say, WE are stupid…et cetera…?”

There ensued a long silence.

During which I went, “Any opinion is better than no opinion at all.”

“We used to,” she said. “We used to say, ‘We are too stupid to have an opinion. But he changed it one day…one fine male chauvinist day!”

She spat the letters, c-h-o-w v-i-n-ist day.

Huhm, he pursed his lips in a way I found decidedly unattractive and pompous. Then began stroking his chin professorially. “I remember it differently. I remember having my degrees disparaged as, and I quote, ‘unrealistic, over-priced ivory-tower opinionationisms…’”

What!

“…yes, and brainwashing. I believe you said that also.”

Why! You! You know you were talking about the limitations of the female brain! Math and science…in my face. How?! Could…I aced physics!”

“Yes, you who strike the first blow, Madame Curie! Can dish it out, but…”

“Dish it? Sexist! You degraded my mind! My choices. That’s what started it.”

“You attacked.”

“I defended…!”

“You…!

“You!”

“WAIT!” I screamed. “Stop it!”

They crossed their arms over their hearts and got their pouty little kid things going again.

“Let’s go get some ice cream,” I suggested.

Vanilla. He said.

Chocolate. Stupid!

OK. Wait! I shouted. I know where that comes from: gimme something hot and cold and black and white, demanded the petulant princess to her cook. Or it’s gonna be off with your lousy head!

The next day, the cook brings a desert, a first, a great big hot chocolate sundae. And so proved vanilla and chocolate were made for each other. Dig?

And that it don’t matter who started what.

See? It’s how it ends…and any opinion is better than no opinion at all.

Whenever a cabbie gets lost up a dead end, he stops, turns around, and goes back to where he came from. Usually down hill. To where he began to get lost.

We reset. Restore.

Start over.

Escape the bad place.

Drive down hill, to the river. Follow the river to the sea. Across the sea is either France or China. So you’re never really lost. The big sky up above, land under your feet. Or, in this case, tires.

So remain seated and listen up!

You guys taught me something: we’re all too stupid to have the right to an opinion! We should seek out facts.

“He said ‘first’ first!” she butted in.

“You started it off.”

“You said the stupid part.”

“I remember saying, ‘opinion.’”

“I’m just as sure you said…”

“That’s your opinion!”

OK! I shouted at the windshield.

Guys! Dudes!

We’re almost there.

It’s a team game. Let me believe you can do it again. Create something else together…besides, say, rancor.

You’re not really stupid, y’know.

So. Tell him.

Tell her!

Then they mumbled something inaudible to their own selves.

10 bucks folks! …and skip the tip.

Here’s 20. The guy said. You keep it.

20?! She goes. Why did you…?

…I was already around the back about to open the door to the side walk. “Hey,” I went, ostensibly talking to the guy, but meant for her ears only. “Did you slide across the seat to save her the inconvenience? I mean, to wipe off of any untoward taxi juices to clear the way for her lovely dress.”

“I do like to kinda swipe off the seat with my pants,” he said. “Y’know, just in case you can’t see something….”

“He always does that,” she smiled. “One time he found a knife.”

She reaches for my hand as I offer support. I feel another bill slip into my palm. She gives me a firm glance. I’m not talking. I think it’s a phone #. Duh.

“It was difficult to convince the cabbie to take it,” amended the male. “He just wanted us out. Rather petrified, I thought.”

Save that opinion, I thought, smiling at them, jimmy-jamming what turned out to be a 300% tip into my grimy cabbie pants.

Then suddenly, it came to me, I shouted at them: “Say! Whose house is this anyway?”

“You’ll never know,” she winked at me…uh-huh.

“My mother’s.” He mumbles. And she flicks him a couple darts from her dark blues.

“Well, that’s it then,” I go. “Have nice life together! And just remember it takes two to fight AND two to keep a couple a couple.”

I’m out-a-here.

— -o — -