Thursday, March 5, 2020

Las Vegas Taxi


     It was four years ago today, March 5, 2016, Mike and I began our trip to Las Vegas. He was going for a conference, and I was tagging along. A few of our highlights were typed up at the time, and here is the first of them:

We touched down at McCarran Airport and after baggage claim, we got into the long line for a taxi. The line moved quickly. and soon we were on our way to the Tropicana Hotel. With just a couple of questions, Mike and I heard most of our taxi driver’s life story.
I did not place his accent very well – my first guess was Russian, and my second guess was Greek. Both were incorrect. The driver offered a hint:
          “Did you see Godfather III?” he asked.
          “Sicily?”
          “Yes, Sicily. Palermo.”
          He came to the United States 34 years ago, living in New York City for the first 17 of those years.
          “Did you move to Vegas when the people in the Godfather started building the hotels?”
          He laughed and said no. But he moved from NYC to get away from the cold, the rude people, the smell from the sewers on the few days that the city was hot, and the two bedroom $1500 a month apartment where neighbors pound on the walls and tell you to turn down the music when you have friends over on the weekend. In Las Vegas, the weather is beautiful all year around. For $1800 a month, he has a house, and he can entertain without fear of making too much noise. Less rudeness.
          I asked if he has become a US citizen, and when he said yes, I then asked who he liked for president this year? The cabby said a few things regarding the buffoonery of Donald Trump and then revealed he is leaning toward the guy from Texas. “Cruz?!” Yes, he likes Ted Cruz.
He did not mention any of the Democratic candidates.
          “Do you go back to Palermo often?”
          That question got me a look in the rear-view mirror – when we made eye contact, he replied, “No, never. Too many bad memories. Bad stuff went on there.”
          We pulled into the taxi drop-off lane of the Tropicana. The driver blew his horn at a man walking in front of us, and then he yelled an ethnic slur at him! The man who was being honked at and yelled at walked over and leaned into the cab through the open front passenger window. He and the cabby laughed, shook hands, exchanged brief greetings, and then he continued on his way.
          Who says America is not great? Our taxi ride and the story were both so pleasant that Mike tipped generously. What more awaited us in Vegas?

20200305  29  20160305 Las Vegas Taxi

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