Taxi Talisman

March 2004

I was in my second semester of graduate school, trying to figure out what my next step in my professional life was going to be. I had just finished my Environmental Health class and learned of asinine laws (and PAC money) that have a detrimental effect upon health and our society as a whole. It made me mad. In fact, so passionately angry that I wanted to stand up and do something about our legal system and its imminent demise.

I considered that night becoming a lawyer and fighting the system from the inside out. I did not talk about it with anyone, because I wanted some time to mull this path over in my own mind. I wasn't really sure that I wanted to get another degree, let alone go into the field of law. Was I really cut out to achieve this task? Did I have it in me to clear another obstacle?

The next morning provided bitter cold weather, as Chicago March's typically provide. I was also running late to my Friday morning meeting at work and decided cabbing it would be my best bet.

I bundled up in my overcoat and headed out to hail a taxi. As I settled into the backseat, the cab driver looked at me in his rear-view mirror as though he wanted to tell me something.

Paranoid that I had spilt coffee on my shirt (or something equally embarrassing), I asked "Yes?"

He replied, "Oh, it's nothing, ma'am."

By the time we had reached my office, I could tell he still had something on his mind.

"No, really, you can tell me, what did you want to say earlier?"

He turns around and said to me, "Don't worry. You're going to be a great lawyer. You are going to make me proud."

Shocked, I handed him the fare in silence. I eventually gathered my wits and inquired as to how he knew I was going to be a lawyer.

"I just know these kinds of things," he whispered.