Cabbie and more IHC

Although I’ve taken several cab rides since the early December episode reported here, I’ve not had another reason to do so related to work until today. It was with some trepidation that I phoned Bob’s, but this time, the driver appeared almost instantly and there was no threat of meltdown when I announced my destination.

In fact, I stumbled onto an unsolicited library testimonial:

“Ya work at the library?”


“Just got my first library card in 35 years. I had to give up on television.”

“The writers’ strike?”

“Nah, I guess I gave up before that. I love the stuff at the library. Ya know, I keep reading real stuff, history, about Dartmouth history.”

“Yeah, the library has some great local history.”

“And the DVDs. I can get free DVDs. I like the old ones. Actually I don’t care. My wife wants just what’s new, but I can see older ones and get a kick out of that.”

A couple hours later, finished with my meeting, I redialed Bob’s and discovered that I am now a known entity. I announced my departure address and the dispatcher greeted me by name–and the cab was, again, there swiftly.

Okay, one little hump from outlander status negotiated.

Back at my office, I discovered a new packet from home: forwarded mail.  And, as chance would have it, the pieces included a mailing from Immaculate Heart College’s alumni association (just in case I had, overnight, become a disbeliever in the unity of the universe or some such).  I crammed the mail into my bag for  this evening and took out the mailer over supper, which happened, tonight, to be in a small Italian restaurant at basement level, a place Dorothy Dunn herself would appreciate (She had a fondness for fresh young Italian places in Bel Air but this one could be the twin to the small Italian place in Greenwich Village referenced in the original “Parent Trap” movie as the site of the parents’ first date and she would find the reference worth a giggle).

And there’s Dorothy’s name on at least three pages–so I found myself simultaneously in Southern California and the middle of Nova Scotia. But, wait, why be satisfied with bilocation when you can go for even more blasts from the past?

Another name listed was that of a classmate, who, after college, had moved north while I had moved back east. More than 10 years later, when I was briefly back in LA, I took a bus to visit Monica.  I got out at the Northern California terminal–and this is where the story takes a direct dive into “What was she thinking??”–and immediately fell for the skyline and decided to move to Oakland.

Which is how I–eventually–wound up in Berkeley. And, eventually, needed to leave it.

Clearly the sort of story only a writers’ strike could engender. 


One Response to “Cabbie and more IHC”

  1. Bob Says:

    I think Bob’s is a darn good name for a Taxi company.

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