I was sat in my FRU on standby outside one of London’s larger train stations. It was a busy Monday morning and hundreds, if not thousands of people were going about their day, rushing to get here and there.
I’d managed to be here for over five minutes! Without getting a job down on the MDT!! Miracle!!! But then, TAP TAP TAP at my passenger side window. Looking up I saw a well suited middle aged man looking in and trying to grab my attention – uh oh, what could it be . . . ? Someone injured? Heart attack? One under? The possibilities were endless.
I wound down the window and smiled . . .
“You busy? Do you want my business or what!?” His thick New York accent caught me off balance. Business?? Do I want it?? Was this American humour? Best be cautious with my response, I thought.
“um, any chest pain?”
“I need to get to Fenchurch Street . . . can you do that?”
“Aren’t you . . . ”
The ‘septic’* stepped back to look at my vehicle again. Looking it from side to side I faintly saw a penny drop . . . especially when he clocked the line of black cabs way off to his left. Without saying anything to me he picked up his luggage and quickly walked off to get his taxi at the correct point.
Then the penny finally dropped for me. And I laughed hard.
*Septic Tank . . . ‘Yank’.