9588. ONE DELICIOUS BET

ONE DELICIOUS BET

(marked for life)

I was standing on the corner of

east 7th street  -  don't ask why, I've

got no excuse  -  and this Indo-Paki

cab driver guy comes out to me and

says, in that delicious twang they have,

'Very kind, sir, I would be liking to be the

ride for you.' Now, in American lingo that

just boils down to, 'Do you need a ride? I

have an open cab.' Yet, in this crazy, delicious

subcultue of everything we have around now,

this guy utilized that very roundabout and

highly respectful format of address. I

suppose I'd be no different in his land, me,

winding up saying something like 'Can I

please Simonize your camel?' Or elephant,

or whatever they have as house-pets. He's

far better than I am with his language dexterity.

So, anyway, I said no, and he nodded. I didn't

want to hurt him by just letting him down, so I

added about how I was just standing about and

wasn't seeking a ride but that if I was he'd have

been the very best and foremost choice I could

have made, and would have too. That pleased him,

even if he probably didn't quite get what I meant.

There are moments like this when you just sort

of hate to lose the connection  -  I'd probably

never see this NYCity can guy again and whatever

impression I left of myself with him would be it

for both myself and for him. So, why waste an

opportunity to be good and be nice. Then I started

thinking of' 'chance' and probability and all that

stuff  -  next time I was uptown, my luck would

have it that it would be this guy in a cab who'd

be the one to have run me down  -  looking up as

I would be from the pavement, head bleeding, 

tongue lolling about, and I'd only manage to say

'Hey! I know you; last week, on 7th Street!'

right before I expired with his fierce head

looming above me, remembering.