destination. Kern handed me the microphone. "State andLake ," I said aloud to no one in particular, just an exercise, then I pressed the bid button and watched for street signs. Momentarily, the dispatcher took our perfectly executed bid.
"Seventy," the dispatcher said a moment later, "get the Six-oh-two for Peggy."
I acknowledged the call and held my peace until we dropped off our passengers. The fare was nine dollars. They smiled and handed Kern a ten and two ones, then wished me luck.
"Where's our next call?" Kern asked.
I had written it on a piece of scratch paper. "The six-oh-two," I parroted, "whatever that is. Wherever that is."
"It's a bar, the Six-oh-two Club at six-oh-two University Avenue, also known as 'The House of Sparkling Glasses.' Great place. Year after year gets voted best dive bar, but that's a lotta bullshit. Just 'cuz it's not all glitzy and full of students, they think it's a hole, but it's the most intellectual bar in town."
My kind of place, I thought. "And where is it?"
"Frances and U, right at the corner."
I promptly searched my city map for that intersection. Kern sighed loudly. I knew what he was thinking, but if it was necessary to look up every point of origin and every destination, so be it.
"The fine art of loading calls, part two," he said. "When you pull up to a bar or restaurant, give it about a minute, just to see if they're watching. If not, we go inside and dig the person out."
A minute passed, and I followed Kern inside. The small bar was crowded and dark, made darker by the forest green walls. Bordello-red upholstery on the chairs, stools and booths glowed luridly in the dim light. Dust coated artwork covered the walls, giving the place a definite Bohemian feel to it. Kern edged his way through the crowd. The bartender seemed to know him.
"Hey, Kern," the bartender said, brandishing a glass goblet. "Schooner?"
"Nah, I'm working. Unfortunately. Somebody call for a cab?"
"Yeah." He turned to his right toward a woman who was quietly smoking a cigarette. "Peggy! Cab's here."
The woman turned toward Kern. "I'm right outside," Kern said, then he turned and fought his way back through the crowd toward the cab.
"The fine art of loading calls, part two, sub A," Kern resumed once back in the cab. "Some drivers go into a bar and start yelling at the top of their lungs. You can do that if you want. I think it looks bad. Also, some drivers will stand over the passenger until they leave, then escort them to the cab. Again, you can do that if you want, but I'd just as soon do it this way so the person doesn't feel so rushed. You probably get a better tip this way."
Shortly, the woman emerged, and we took her to her near-southside home, offFish Hatchery Road , just past where it splits fromPark Street . Once at the destination, he took the woman's money and made change. The dispatcher recited a few intersections, and I heard the name "Fish." Fish Hatchery? I hit the bid button, and by the time Peggy had left the cab, we had another call.
"Very good, Al," Kern said. I had not thought he was paying any attention to what I was doing. "Now, do you know whereMartin Street is?"
"No, but I can find it quickly on the map."
Kern shook his head. "Forget about that for now. You seem to have the radio down pretty good. I think it's time for you to drive."
"Drive? Now?"
"Sure, why not? I can see you know how to handle the radio. I can also see you don't know where anything is, but there's nothing I can do about that. Now, I wanna see you behind the wheel."
"Whatever you think best." The moment of truth had arrived; something had to be done about that infernal rear-view mirror. I dallied for a short moment, snapping on my seatbelt, moving up the bench seat, which caused Kern to groan and surely wish for vehicles with bucket seats.
"I hate short trainees," he said as his knees pressed against the glove compartment, bending him into the fetal position. "Okay, for now, I just want you to drive. I'll tell you exactly where to go, and I'll handle the radio. I want you to concentrate on nothing but driving."
Momentary panic thundered into my being. Kern would not allow me to stall much longer, but then I noticed a small lever at the base of the mirror.