Beans a la Carte

In the cab last night around 1:00 AM headed southerly along Dorchester St. between Perkins and Andrew Squares, I was flagged by a fellow in his early twenties.

I pulled over and he emerged from between two parked cars. I heard a thud on the windshield and saw a plastic shopping bag on it.

'Had he fallen?' I wondered for a moment, then noticed he was holding the bag in both hands and deliberately smacking the windshield with it. The bag quickly tore and revealed roughly a cubic foot of frozen green beans. I let off the brake, and he dashed up the street.

With nothing better to do, I made a u-turn and gave chase. The area is filled with conjoined housing, leaving him nowhere to go without yielding an address. After several blocks and zig-zagged turns, he became winded and stopped on the sidewalk.

I lowered my window: "What the hell was that all about?"

Between pants he replied, "A cab driver screwed me tonight."

"And what does that have to do with me?" I demanded.

He seemed to need a moment to think. "Nothing," he finally answered.

"You know- you flag for a cab; I pull over for you, and you pull this crap. That's fucking retarded."

I could actually see a slight look of shame when he conceeded, "I guess it is."

I shook my head and drove off to a nearby coffee shop where I picked the assorted mashed beans from the windshield and wipers. Given what's left lately after I pay for the cab and gas, I should probably have saved the damned beans for dinner.