All for the Sake of a Flat Rate

       
Boy it doesn't feel like Friday night," said Hal the dispatcher, looking at his call board. 

       "No, number 37, there's nothing going on right now. He looked at the clock. 

       "Oh yeah, KC1352 the Citywide time is 7:26 pm, seven twenty six PM, gentlemen. . . .ah, and ladies. Sorry Rose, sorry Maria." 

        Citywide #37 hung up his mike. That was that. No harm in asking. He was all keyed up to do a little work, and here there was nothing going on. The town was dead, the cab stand at the Lenox was dead, the sidewalks were empty. Not a soul in sight with money in their pocket and an urge to travel. For a half an hour he'd been number three, stuck behind a Checker and a Black and White. RELAX he said to himself, letting the air out of his lungs, and the starch out of his shoulder muscles.   The city was taking a vacation, floors were getting swept, the trash baskets full of printouts were getting emptied, and lights were going out. Another day, said the city, clustering its reflecting mirrors near the horizon, catching a last look at the sun setting' behind the Belmont hills. He sat behind the wheel again and waited. To read the full story, click on this