The Hack Diaries: Drugs, Deli and Underwear

So there was this dude, right?
I got the Call with less than an hour left of my Sunday shift.
“Car 5. Clear.”
“Car 5, 10 Dupont Terrace.”
“10 Dupont Terrace. Got it."
He was on the sidewalk. Not wearing a suit, but dressed the way you would if you had the money but didn’t want to look like you were throwing it around.
“This is just going to be a quick round trip,” he said. “I just need to go to Rite Aid and get a sandwich.”
I didn’t point out that both were not available at the same store as I didn’t like to argue with fares.
“I asked the guy at my building where I could find a good Jewish deliand he didn’t really know of any.”
That explained it. Next to Rite Aid was a place that made great deli-style food.
“Okay, I see. You’re going to Fruit Basket next to Rite Aid?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said they had really good sandwiches and soup there.”I concurred and explained to him that in Quincy and most of the South Shore we didn’t have “Jewish Delis” the way you would in a traditional neighborhood in New York but had mostly sub shops instead.
“The nearest I can think of one that calls itself a Jewish deli wouldthe S & S in Inman Square in Somerville. That would be a place where you could get a kreplach or matzo ball soup. But the Fruit Basket makes great sandwiches if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Perfect,” he said. Relieved, but still seeming very uncomfortable.
“I broke my arm the other day. I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. Rite Aid has a prescription for my and I’m starving at the same time. Add to that, I have a stomach issue where I have trouble keeping pain medicine down.”
This explained the smell of pricey import I could smell wafting off of him. He’d had a few to grease the tracks, was feeling good and I wastaking him to get more pain medication. Good to be rich.
“Oh man, I’m glad you told me that. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No man, this is all I really need. Thanks. Hey, did you grow up in Quincy?”
“No Holbrook,” I admitted.“I grew up in Braintree, the whole place looks a lot different.”
“What year did you graduate?”“Thayer Academy, 79.”
“Ok, so you graduated before Jeremy Roenick and a whole bunch of girlfriends I had.”
“Banged the headmaster’s daughter my senior year,” he said like it was commenting on the weather.
“I got straight A’s but that’s what Iremember most.”
This guy was now my hero. And by hero, I meant Chevy Chase in Caddyshack.
“You’re kidding?”“Swear to God. The headmaster’s house was right across the street fromthe school in this historic building and he walked in on us in bedtogether. We were both 17, we were seniors and A students and had fullwalks to college. We were having fun.”
That’s awesome. First of all, he’s dressed like James Bond on his dayoff. He lives in a condo where a month’s service fee was more than myrent and car payment combined and he schtupped the headmaster’s daughter.
This guy was a little bit Fletch and a little bit older BillMurray.
“It sounds like you had the resume and impressive credentials, he should have been glad to see it happening,” I said, warming up to feelsafe in the familiarity.
“I know, right?”
“Hey this is going to sound like a weird question, but you seem toknow your way around,” he inquired. “The airline lost my luggage and Ihave no underwear. Is there any place in walking distance where Icould find any in walking distance to my place?”
This was one of the most interesting fare’s I’ve ever had. He’d mixedimself a Janis Joplin cocktail of alcohol and painkillers and now wewere on this magical mystery tour and I was his guide to good deli andunderwear.
Up until now, the only really interesting thing that had happened waspicking up a mother and two daughters at Stop & Shop in time to hearthe piercing fire alarm going off. I looked at the younger of the two daughters ear-muffing against the noise accusingly and said “What did you do?”
She looked at me, all defensively for a second, then started to laugh.
“You didn’t let the Keebler elves free again did you?” then I spokeinto my sleeve. “Lock down the hollow tree, we have breech. I don’t know, follow the trail of fudge. Do I have to do everything”She was my buddy from then on and her mother and I loaded the bagsinto the roomy trunk.So I take my rich, stoned, broken an inebriated fare to Rite Aid andpark, letting the meter run. Planning to take him to find fruit of thelooms at AJ Wright afterwards.So after about 20 minutes, I see my new hero make his way from RiteAid to Fruit Basket, 20 minutes later he comes back out.
“Ok, thanks for waiting. I can’t wait for this Reuben. It looks likethe real thing.”“They make a great Rueben,” I encouraged. “Did you get the Russian?”
“I did, and some extra from dipping.”
So I told him the best place to find underwear is across the street,but he was exhausted from this adventure so he said he’d rather justgo home.
I told him AJ Wright and even Family Dollar should be able tosupply the underwear he was looking for.
“Perfect,” he said. “I appreciate it.“I’d asked one of the guys who works for me but he told me about thisplace he goes to find $25 underwear. I was ready to fire him just forthat.”
“Sounds like he was bragging,” I said.
“Kind of a weird thing to brag about to your boss, isn’t it?”
Right.
“I’m just looking for a $5 pack of fruit of the looms. If I had the extra money, and I do, I’d take it to Father Bills and buy food forsome hungry people.”
“The guy’s probably just showing off.”
“Maybe, but like you said, it’s an odd thing to brag to your boss about.”
True.
So I take him back to his condo, and he asked me to rifle through hiswad of cash. He covered the fare and took care of me with an extra,generous 10 spot.
“Hey, thanks for everything, I appreciate it. Is that enough?”
“That’s perfect. I appreciate it. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. Just going to enjoy my sandwich and try to heal.”
“Well hang in there. Feel better and try to relax.”
I drove to the nearest gas station and filled the tank and drove itback to the cab garage, eager to share my adventure in downtown Quincy. Finally feeling I had a story worth sharing with a group of world weary cabbies who look like they’ve either seen it all or missed it all.
“Hey, Stoney,” I called to the dispatcher through the bullet proof glass ready to start a great story. “You know that guy from Dupont? We drove less than two miles but he needed narcotics, deli and underwear.”
“Is this the rich guy with the broken arm?” he asked. “I took him toRite Aid the other night.
“Right, kinda hammered but a pretty nice guy?”
“That’s the one,” I said.Behind me, Al, Yellow Cab’s equivalent to Coach from Cheers walked in,catching a piece of my conversation with Stoney.
“You guys talking about the rich guy with the broken arm?” Al asked.
“You got him too?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “He had me laughing my ass off."
Cash is usually the best tip. But sometimes a really good story lasts longer.