Carol Ann Duffy Monologue

I grew in the back seat of the taxi cab, my dad’s taxi cab. I watched the seats deteriorate, the smell of the car worsen after the umpteenth drunk passenger left their Saturday night entree inside of it. The cab had accumulated so many battle wounds, but that was its appeal. It had character. It encapsulated the moments that I wasn’t privy to. It was a living memory capsule.
I was never able to witness what it was like while it was alive, I didn’t know what it was like to have strangers in your car or what it was like to be in the front seat but my dad did. He knew it all too well. From the drunk and disorderly, the fare dashers, to the full on therapy sessions with his passengers. He had seen it all. Yet, I hadn’t. I wanted to see it first hand. And I was determined to do so.
“Aabo”
“Yes,”
“Yes!” I shrieked “Let’s go”
Zooming through the streets towards Capitol Hill I felt a rush coming over me, I felt giddy, like I was on my way to meet Mrs.Carter-Knowles. I stared out the window waiting for us to arrive at the pickup stop. Five Mcdonald’s, 5 Starbucks and a Costco later we had arrived.
The car came to a halt and the passenger approached the cab. He was a middle-aged, slightly balding, white man. He entered the car and told my dad where he attended to go and then sulked back into his seat letting off a sigh.
“Long day?” my dad said
“You have no idea” the passenger repeated. And before my dad could let off another reply the passenger began to give a preliminary report of his day. My dad smiled and nodded and added commentary when need be, and the passenger kept talking and talking and-
“Screech” the tires went, signifying a stop.
“We’re here,” my dad said
“Ooh really that was fast!” the passenger proceeded to pay his fare and then asked my dad for his personal cab phone number, “Thanks for listening man, I’ll definitely call you”.
“Okay, anytime you need a cab give me a call” my dad