The Donut Ring (Part 1)

I have some business to take care of up north. Or rather, I have someone else's business to take care of up north. So I took a plane up here. By the time I get out from the arrival hall, there are 17 taxi drivers waving at me. Probably because I am carrying this really yellow yellow case. God. Where is a subtle case when you need one?

"Town? Town?" say the drivers. "60 dollars!"

I put my ears in my pocket and walk away. After several tries to catch up with me, they give up and turn to someone else. "Town? Town? 60 dollars!"

I get out of the airport and light a cigarette. I blow smoke and remember how horrible this morning was. Something about, god, about the donut ring. What is it about the donut ring? God. Where is a normal thing to think about when you need one?

"Hello?" here comes a proffesor. Although he is not. He is a taxi driver. But he dresses well. Just like how I would like to dress when I am his age. You know, the older kind of age.

I say hello and put out my cigarette.

"Where are you going? says the professor, no, the taxi driver.

I put my hands in my pocket. I do that when I feel awkward. "This place called RSVP."
"Do you know where it is?" I continue.

"Ya" he says. And then he repeats again. "Ya, ya"

"60 dollars?" I look at the taxi driver and how well he had ironed his shirt.

"70 dollars" he looks at my yellow case. God. Where is a subtle case when you need one?

But I nod and say okay. I'll pay him 10 dollars for the well ironed shirt.