Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I
arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark
except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once
or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished
people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a
situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be
someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door
and knocked.
“Just a minute,”
answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After
a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80′s stood before me. She
was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like
somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.




