Taxi Cab Confessions

This is what happened:

Dusk, King St Newtown, I had five minutes to get to the pub and meet Cale, the Canadian, Coaster, Friend for a beer before he went to class. My spirits were high and thirst ready for quenching as I hit the street. Damn. Uphill. Unfit. Best flag down a cab.

Moments later I am in the front seat, directing the driver to an ATM and the pub in question. He obliges, starting to chat. I am not sure what the segue could have possibly been - or the catalyst for his train of thought going to where it went - but indeed, I was not expecting the following dialogue. Oh no, I was not expecting it at all.

Its fairly obvious he really wanted to tell his story, he drove particularly slowly for the flow of traffic and he certainly was not in a hurry to move off the mark as the lights changed from red to green.

His wife left him five years ago and was currently "shacked up with a 32 year old." The ex was 54. Their daughter was living with his ex-wife and a strictly religious 28 year old so she was "saving herself for marriage" should not have to bear witness to such debauchery. This was tearing him apart, that and the fact that the ex-wife had taken him for everything he had, which he pointed out, was not much. He never used to drink, but since the 32 year old moved in, he has been known to drink a bottle of whiskey in one night and get up and go to work.(At this stage I was taking down the drivers licence number!) Then, and lets remember, at best this was a five to ten minute journey, he really opened up.

"I think I am ready to end it. I have a gun, I will shoot myself and be rid of this forever." I did not want to know, I did not want to care, I did not want to be involved. But I was. And I was paying him for the privilege.

"Anywhere along here thanks." I said, encouragingly. And then I added something along the lines of not killing himself because he needed to be there for his daughter and where would I be if he had not come along? - walking slowly uphill and not at all close to a pint of lager. OK, so maybe it was not the time or place for funny. I was not at all prepared for what had just taken place. Poor excuse I know, but there it is.

Moments later, beer in hand and friend sitting opposite, life had moved on....except that I really hoped that lonely man would be OK.

Now I sit at work, bullied by my co-workers for singing too loudly. "I wish they'd drag you back to re-hab" was one comment regarding a particular song I was singing. Maybe they just need five minutes with the man I met last night, him at the wheel and his life falling apart, to know that there are worse things in life than having to put up with my singing.....