Excuse me, but do you know where you're going?

Sean LaFavor

When I'm not inching towards a degree, I moonlight as a taxi driver a couple nights a week.

My job is pretty uneventful, but there is no shortage of amusing things that I see simply because of the quantity of people I encounter.

A few weeks ago, I was sent to pick somebody up near the Super America across Highway 10. There was no indication of where I was supposed to drop them off. That's okay, perfectly normal.

I pulled up to the address, and a young black girl, about 16, was already walking across the street, and got in the back seat. I asked her where she was going, and she said she wasn't sure where but felt she could find it. Again, perfectly normal, perfectly natural.

When we got to 10, she told me to take a left, essentially heading in the direction of the Twin Cities, which struck me as odd, but whatever. I drove in that direction waiting for some sort of further instructions, but the blank stare on the girl's face told me there was none coming too quickly.

After a long period of complete silence, I asked her where she wanted me to turn. There was a growing feeling of uneasiness brewing in my stomach.

She said to me that she had just moved here from Chicago and didn't really know her way around. The uneasiness grew.

She said that her friend whom she was going to visit had told her she frequently walked the distance and that the cab fare was usually around $7.

My own meter read closer to $10.

We were, of course, no longer within walking distance of where we began. This girl was lost before she got in. She was lost from birth. More important an issue to myself, the impoverished college student trying to make a couple bucks for the weekend, I began to suspect she was not going to pay the fare.

So we turned around, now heading northwest on 10, retracing the path we just traveled.

"So you don't know your friend's address?" I asked.

"No."

"Do you have a phone number?"

"No."

"Does anybody at your house have a phone number to call them?"

"No."

Utterly frustrated.

I can only speak for myself, but when I get into a cab, it is not to cruise around a strange city in some desperate hope that by a stroke of luck I will find where I'm going. I usually have an address or directions. Seems cheaper and doesn't anger the sometimes volatile personality of the cabby.

But this girl was special, she was.

After a futile call from a pay phone a scant three blocks but nearly $30 from where I picked her up, I had no option but to drop her off at home.

As we neared her apartment, she informed me that she had little money, and that she would have to go talk to her mother to get it.

Meaning she would have to exit the car and leave my sight for awhile.

I felt hopeless and sorry. This was a wasted $30. But it was $30 that was coming out of my pocket if it didn't come out of hers. So I asked if she had anything to leave as collateral. She held out a little fake cell-phone key chain, which obviously wasn't going to cut it. I was going to have to trust that she would come back. Which I didn't.

She got out and began walking towards the back of the building, so I got out to watch her. She looked back and began walking faster, and I started to chase her, by which time she was in full sprint.

When I caught her, she played it off like she was kidding. After arguing with her on the concepts of payment for service performed, she bolted into a nearby apartment, at which time I called the police.

To make a long story short, the cops arrived, found her (in a completely different building) and told her to either pay up or go to jail. When she returned without the money, they charged her with petty theft, and I was out of luck. It made me mad � and a little sorry.

This girl was not a criminal. Her only crime was that she was incredibly stupid � a condition that will cause worse issues down the line.

The problem is there are too many people born stupid and who remain that way their entire lives. There are lots roaming around, screwing things up for the rest of us, making life tougher than it already is. Watch for them, or the next one might be out to screw with you.

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Sean LaFavor can be reached at: [email protected]

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