“I called a cab, still in my towel. I jumped in the cab before it had even stopped at the gate. I actually said, "The nearest library with a cutting-edge professional grief- and trauma-therapy section, and step on it.”

“There something I can do to get this over with quick? Like, can I just run in front of a cab and take my lumps and we call it even? As opposed to you cutting off my nose and all, I mean.”

“Oh dear,' said Eddie. 'We'd better hurry. Tinto, call me a cab.'All right,' said Tinto. 'You're a cab.”

“I had to quit my taxi cab driving job because I had no way to get to work. The problem was I kept calling myself to come pick me up.”

“Well," I said, "I have to go."He said, "Can I call you?"I waited a long time before answering, though not, of course, as long as he'd made me wait. I let him stand there with the question in the air while I took a good long look at him, let him stand there while I stepped to the street and raised my arm for a cab. At exactly that moment, as though dispatched by some god I didn't really believe in anymore - the god of drama or god of perfect things - or maybe by my own fairy god god, a cab came. I got in, and closed the door.”

“I stepped into the back of a cab and simply told the driver, "Follow the blue Christmas tree...”