It was about 12:15 on a warm Thursday night in August. I drove my cab down the street, humming to the tune on the radio as I aproached my detination.
By the time I reached the Sheriton, it had started raining. The windshield wipers slid back and forth in front of my face as the door opened and two passangers climbed in.
"236 Spruce Street please," announced the gentleman.
"Sure thing buddy." I spat out my usual reply as I began driving and listening to the conversation unfolding in the back seat.
"I have to tell you Laura, Jim really can rub me the wrong way," the gentleman remarked to his companion.
"Tom, he was just being friendly. He didn't want to ignore me."
"Look, a wave or a casual hello is being friendly. Walking up and giving you a back massage could be considered more than that."
"Oh, don't be silly. You know that I still go out with Jim sometimes."
"It's just that I don't see him the way you do I guess."
"What's wrong with him?"
In the rear view mirror, I could see him turn to face her as he answered. He seemed to pause in response to the cab stopping at a red light.
"It's just the way that he acted and the way that he spoke to me. I just find it hard to deal with him."
"I just wish you would be a bit more civil to him. I mean, I like him even if you don't."
"Alright, I'll be better next time."
"Thanks," she rested her head on the window and stayed that way, silent for the remainder of the ride."