forget it, Count. The customer is always right, that is, unless they're a raving psychotic."
That last remark gave me pause. Raving psychotic? Just how psychotic might a raving psychotic be?
Finally, I shifted into gear and eased forward, retracing our previous steps and moving north toward the downtown. Kern pointed out a strip of bars alongPark Street , saying we get many calls from those establishments. He pointed to his right as we passed the intersection ofWest Washington and Park, saying it's called "the five points" in cab slang. We reached Park and Regent, which brought an earlier association that was somehow helpful in painting an internal geometry; Regent also crossesWest Washington . This whole area is one big triangle.
"We call this Spaghetti Corners," Kern said. "Before urban renewal, this was a Italian neighborhood, Sicilian mostly, but the city tore it all down. Prejudice mainly. Hell, contrary to the movies, most Sicilians are not actually in the Mafia. The 'Tenderloin' may not have been the prettiest place in the world, but itwas a real, honest-to-God ethnic neighborhood."
"Where did these people go?" Hulking medical buildings loomed on either side, shrouding in long shadows the apparent remaining businesses, Josie's Restaurant and Fraboni's Deli.
"The suburbs. Wherever they could afford. Supposedly, during that particular urban renewal period, the Italians were paid considerably less for their homes than their Northern European counterparts. Anyway, that's just a littleMadison history from someone who's lived here his whole life. So, what should we do now?"
The radio was silent. I would have thought that with the cold weather, there would be more people calling for cabs. "I do not know."
"Finding a cab stand wouldn't be a bad, but I have a better idea. Can you find your way to the airport?"
"I think I know where that is. Shall we go there?"
"Ahead, warp factor seven, Mister Sulu." Kern laughed. "Y'know, there's an amazing mental process that goes on when you get assigned a call. It's kind of like having a littleStarship Enterprise inside your head."
So, it was a twenty-year-old television show to which he was referring. I have watched the show on occasion and found it mildly entertaining, though it seems astounding that these humans are so fascinated with outer space, where none of them will ever go, while there are so many mysteries on this planet that they take for granted every day of their lives.
"You get a call, and it's like there's a little Captain Kirk who orders a little Mister Chekov to plot a course. Then, once the course is plotted and laid in, a little Mister Sulu takes you where you want to go."
"Fascinating," I replied. Kern laughed at that. He seemed well at ease, hopefully due to my performance. It did occur to me that Kern might have the power to say he did not think I would be suitable for the task of driving a cab. My radio acumen was satisfactory, and my driving was more than satisfactory. Obviously, my knowledge of the city was limited, but had I not passed their geographic test? How much would they expect?
"I'll say one thing," Kern said, practically reading my mind. "You drive well. Don't think I haven't been watching. Of course, some trainees I'm almost scared to watch, but you drive very sanely. You use your turn signals. You seem comfortable behind the wheel, and you're never in too much of a hurry. That's good. Very good."
"I have been driving quite a long time."
"Too bad you've been driving inMadison only a short time."
"You are concerned?"
"Yeah. If you knew the city, I'd have to say you'd make a great cab driver, but you don't, and it worries me. We'll talk about that later. For now, just get us to the airport in one piece."
"Aye aye, Captain."
At the airport, Kern pointed out a circular area which he said was the taxi-loading area. There are six parking spaces there, he said, and only six cabs are allowed in the stand. Additional cabs must sit in the adjacent overflow area or risk getting ticketed by airport security.
"They love writing us cabbies tickets," he said. "It's bullshit. They need us, but they treat us like shit. You know, the guy who runs the airport was one time actually quoted as saying that cabs at the airport are like fleas on a dog."
The ready stand was full, and a few cabs sat in the overflow area, but there appeared to be no one inside waiting for baggage. I wondered if we would stay