how do you think beethoven would feel...

about having his moonlight sonata as some man's cellphone ring? he's a cabby, brown and unable to produce sentences that i can understand. breaks a twenty with quarters, takes queen street when he should be on shuter, slows down at a yellow light. where have all the good drivers gone? the ones that cheat a little, cut off the teenager in the honda, leave the lincoln in the dust. where have all the good cabbies gone? the ones who blow smoke at the red cigarette circle sign on the dash listening to ethiopian classical and laughing because you're drunk. back in the good old days, when dinosaurs ruled the earth (i think it was december) some cabby gave me a cd, cared that i got home okay, waited until i'd unlocked the door...back in the good old days, some cabby let me use his cellphone (i don't think beethoven was involved) to call my have-we-broken-up-yet boyfriend eighteen times while we waited outside his door. cabby turned off the meter and drove me around while i cried, drunk and smoking. took me to casa loma. made me feel like some white trash queen in an orange car with green sides, he was great. tonight the cabby (they're citizens of some secret nation-state) didn't talk, let his cellphone ring the minor notes, gave no smiles, got no tip. where have all the good cabbies gone? and by the way...how would you spell that taxi driver's name?