Albertson's blues (unfounded)

I was belled to Albertson's, and it was a time of day when an elderly lady usually calls for a cab. I don't know her name, but I've had her a few times. She is a real handful, for the following reasons:

+ mean as a wolverine
+ smells bad
+ poor sight and hearing
+ is always cold; insists on heat, even when it's hot outside!
+ has a lot of groceries, which the cabbie gets to load into the car, unload, and carry up two flights of stairs to a ratty little apartment
+ ten cent tip

So I slowly ambled over to Albertson's, being in no hurry for a humiliating torture session, and found a large tour bus blocking the entrance. If the lady was there, she would not be able to see me. I might have to park a long ways away and walk in -- more problems. Then a guy in a shirt and tie ran up to me and said the bus was going to try backing up because he was bottoming out, and could I please move? I could. I was wondering who "tries" to back up? Shouldn't he just back up?

To make room for the bus, I had to back up through a parking lot full of moving vehicles and pedestrians (who don't look out for large, metallic objects that could possibly run them over and flatten them like pancakes -- if I had half a peso for every ped who was careless with their life I'd be a very rich man.).

When I had positioned myself well clear of the bus, which was, of course, backing out at .0001 mph, a young black guy with a single bag of groceries came running up to the car.

Him: I need to go to the 32nd St. Naval Base.

Me: Did you call?

Him: Yes.

Me: Man am I glad to see you.

He gave me an odd look, so I explained that most calls to that grocery store at that hour are pure hell, and the fact that he was ambulatory and anything but a pain in the ass was pure magic to me. He was mildly amused, but didn't seem to understand. Maybe it's a cabbie thing.

The moral of the story: Take each bell as it comes, it may not be a complete turd.