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cab, cab driver, Central Intelligence Agency, college, commute, commuter, commuting, compliments, God, Government, grateful, life, Marine, Military, poetry, San Francisco, taxi, travel, United States, United States Marine Corps, university, University of San Francisco, USF, usfca, values, wisdom
I have probably just met the most amazing, authentic man in this world. Before you misunderstand, this man is probably in his sixties. He was also my taxi driver. I had just missed the cab I had called earlier (I watched it drive away), and I thank God that I had to redial for another one. I knew I was in for a ride, because the second he pulled up he shouted, “Honey! Sweetheart! Come right in!” and then immediately apologized asking if he crossed any lines, because, in reality, he had meant to say simply my name. 😉 What a charmer…
For the first time, since I began this blog, I am at a complete loss for words. This man reads auras and energies, and liked to tell it how he sees it. He held nothing back. No joke…mid-ride he told me it’s a good thing I wore a bra today. Who says that to a girl they just met? No one. Just him.
Because of him, it’s probably the first time I’ve felt this good about myself. To him, this stranger girl, was “vivacious, generous, energetic, honest, no bullshit, oozing a larger-than-life vibe..” and there was just so much more that I could hardly keep up. “You’re the kind of girl that makes me wish that I was twenty years younger.” I was definitely turning bright red at this point. But what struck me the most was this: “With values like yours, you must be the wealthiest girl in the world.”
He’s an addict to fresh air – not simply just a breath of fresh air. Hasn’t closed his bedroom windows since twenty-three years ago. Originally moved to San Francisco to write a book about his life, which I can tell you, is no normal one. He was in the Marine Corps and then transfered to work with the CIA. Of course, the federal government has already warned him about the classified issues he may not mention in his biography, but they did not even need to worry, because “he would never do anything to harm this country. [He] loves it too much.” To him, he can’t be living a happier life. He’s got an amazing “lover” and just lost his beloved tomcat that was with him for 23 years (a fellow addict of cold, fresh air). He does not regret leaving his stable job for the more risky life of an author. “Nureen, let me tell you. There are two ways to live your life. Laughing or crying. In my line of work, I saw way too many people crying. It was from then that I decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life laughing.” His life in San Francisco has not been the easiest, of course. Tragedy does strike all, even those with the intention of constantly laughing. Nineteen of his fellow co-workers have been murdered on the job, since he began. You would think someone would be scared off? But no, not this man. Instead he talks of the gravity of taking someone in his cab knowing that he is responsible for them until they reach their destination.
When I told him about my commute, he commended my dedication to my education, but did not fail to tell me that a “college education is great and all, but also a whole load of bologna. It’s the college experience that helps you sift between the weak and the great before you move on alone into the real world.” He also sympathized with me leaving my non-existent “main squeeze” (I’m still quoting him). The amount of shock he had in reaction was almost amusing, but even more amusing was his response: “Oh, well, we all know that if you wanted one, you’d have him in a second.” When finding out about my lack of experience in the romantic department, he took it upon himself to impart upon me some great wisdom: “If the man cannot recite poetry to you, he’s not worth it. It means he’s missing something emotional. Any man can give you flesh and warmth, but only a real one will be able to share something that meaningful and soulful.”
I wished I could have just missed my train and spent more than just 15 minutes with him. After paying my fare, before I left the cab, he turned around and looked right in my eyes and said “If you scratched at your skin, Nureen, you’re the kind of person that would bleed ‘good’.” For those of you who know me, those words decimated my mascara. Probably the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me…As I wished him a good night, he replied with a “Of course, it will be. You were a part of it.”
Thank you, Robert Graham “like the crackers”. You made my life.
– Nureen
P.S. Keep a look out for his book. Definitely something I’m keeping an eye out for.