Because humor is funnier when you know it's true.
The burrowing bohemian
It was late in my shift when I stumbled onto a local ride, destination unknown. I didn't learn how unknown, until much later. The pick-up address was a local motel.
What kind of motel?
Let me put it this way. The police get a call there almost every night. It's a very small motel, and any drug you need can be bought or soldthere.
As I pulled my taxi into the motel's driveway, I kept that in mind. I was on high alert and noticed the parking lot was empty. Only one or two cars were ever parked there and if I needed a quick getaway, it would be relatively simple. I don't like complications.
By complications, I mean drug dealers, muggers, carjackers, or hoodlums.
A woman in her late twenties scurried over to my cab and quickly got in. She immediately lay down in the seat and began rocking back and forth. With her head resting near the door window, she was facing me and began giving me instructions:
"Hi. How are you doing?”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t care, just drive!”
“Okay, whatever you say, lady.”