The Driver

From the Train to the Street

Ben preferred hanging at the tail-end of the passengers as everyone departed the train. Towards the back, he would rarely get the person who was running late, barreling over him trying to get to the escalator so that they could be the first out the door. He could walk at his own pace, not having to be wedged in the middle with the rest of the masses who would move as one through the caverns, through the doors to the lobby, and to the escalators that sometimes weren’t working, eventually getting to the freedom of the outside world.

Ben also stayed towards the back of the crowd because he didn’t need to be charging forward at a frantic pace. He knew that he should have ample time to get to the office.

Walking down the sidewalk that had changed from a gray concrete color to a shade of black, covered with a film of diesel exhaust, Ben found himself, as was the case most of the time when he was walking past a train, studying the underside of the monstrous beast, noticing the cabling and admiring both the simplicity and complexity of the train wheels.

Up ahead, Ben could see the escalators jammed with departing passengers. He slowed his pace a bit, knowing he was going nowhere fast.

Seemingly safe from those charging to get to the door, Ben could hear a sound coming from behind him. He knew what was coming, it was the guy who was running late. “Pardon me, excuse me, pardon me,” was being blurted out at a voice loud enough to be heard over the mix of idling trains and anxious commuters in the station. Ben thought, “At least he’s trying to be polite. Maybe it would have been better if he was ready to get off the train when it pulled in?”

Eventually, the man made it to Ben, and he gave Ben a nudge as he was coming through.

“Excuse me.”

Ben had this sudden urge to shove the guy to the side a bit to make his walk a little more challenging, but he knew it wouldn’t teach the guy a lesson. Ben also thought that with his luck, the guy would go ballistic and want to get into a fight.

Finally, at the escalators, Ben realized that he had forgotten to check the ride-sharing app to see how long it would take for a car to pick him up. As the escalator was making a screeching noise, struggling to pull the people up to the next level, Ben reached for his phone in his pocket to try and check pick-up times while riding on the escalator. As he was bringing up his phone, another person came barreling up the left side of the escalator, bumping into Ben.

Ben’s phone slipped, but somehow he snagged it with two fingers just before it hit the metal stair. “I’ll wait until I get to the lobby to check,” thought Ben, realizing that he had forgotten his rule to always find a corner, away from people, while doing anything on his phone.

Rising up the escalator and into the lobby, Ben noticed that the Don’t Be Late Tavern and Grill was already open. Four men were seated at the bar, dressed in business attire with their shoulder bags at their feet, having a liquid breakfast. As Ben continued walking, dodging a few people in the lobby, he found an isolated spot in the corner and opened the ride-sharing app.

“Fifteen minutes to get here? What the hell?”

Ben knew this would start to cut things close for his getting to the office on time, but he had no choice.

He was now on the lookout for a 2015 gold Toyota Camry, and a driver named Richard.

“Hmm, he’s got a 4.7 out of 5 rating. That’s good.”, thought Ben.

“Shit, I forgot to select the company credit card for the ride-share payment,” Ben whispered under his breath.

Since he had a few minutes before the car would arrive to pick him up, Ben found the ride-share receipt in his email and forwarded it to his company for an expense report. He knew he would hear it from his boss later, “Why didn’t you just use the company card?”

Ben sighed, and found himself looking at the bar, then checking the time. He thought, “I do have enough time to grab a drink.”

Ben, though, didn’t join the four men at the bar, only thinking about how much he wanted to be that guy who would join them.

“Ehh, by the time I got my drink, got the check, and got out of there, it would be too late.”

Ben stayed in his isolated corner, letting the minutes go by, until he could see, on the app, that the driver was a block away. He hurried out the door as the rain, which appeared to be traveling sideways, began to pelt his pants as the awning didn’t go far enough out into the street to protect the throngs of people from the elements.

“Ehh, an umbrella wouldn’t have helped anyway.”

There it came, the 2015 gold Toyota Camry. Ben climbed in. “Richard?” Ben inquired to make sure he had the correct driver.

“Yup, that’s me. You Ben?”

“Yup, that’s me.”

Before Ben could get his seatbelt fastened, the Camry, with a jolt, jumped into traffic, and Ben thought, “Guess it’s going to be one of those kinds of rides.”

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