By this time it was around 3pm and I found a comfortable looking establishment to patronize about a 100 yards from the last viewing platform I had occupied. The place was nearly empty on account of the lunch crowd having dissipated, and I found myself dodging empty tables through the dining room on my way to the bar that was affixed parallel to the back wall. I ordered a beer, pulled out my camera and began flipping through the photos reviewing the day’s work.
I’ll spare you the minutia that followed. Aside from the welcome surprise of Huey Lewis’s greatest hits playing in the background it was an uneventful 45 minutes. I’d be remiss, however, to neglect to mention the two Sri Lankan gentlemen that bellied up next to me shortly after my arrival. We struck up a conversation almost immediately, and I came to learn that they were visiting the peak to celebrate the start of a two-week vacation in Hong Kong. They were very friendly and seemed genuinely interested in who I was and where I was from. We talked for about 5 minutes until they became preoccupied with their delivery from the kitchen, which just so happen to be a whole, proper chocolate cake. They alternated fork full’s and washed each bite down with very forgiving shots of Bailey’s. It wouldn’t have been my choice, but I chalked it up to these guys starting their vacation off on the right foot…
Two beers amounted to plenty for me and so I paid the tab, bid my new friends farewell and made way back towards the train. Much to my chagrin, the line was immense and considering I didn’t have the patience or the proper attire to tolerate another hour outside, I figured that any excitement the train would offer would pale in comparison to the comfort and warmth of a taxi.
I flagged down a ride almost immediately, climbed in, buckled my seatbelt and began to get settled. Time for a little aside…people often scoff at my diligence when it comes to my relentless use of seatbelts in taxi-cabs. I never could understand why…I guess it’s just not the “cool” thing to do. Whatever… seldom have I found a cab driver that I would consider to be sufficiently in control of the car enough so as to trust my life.
It’s good to know that at least one of my buddies is on my side when it comes to this point. Not long after I left the States, I received a very heartfelt, touching note from my good buddy, DJ. I’ll save him any embarrassment when it comes to its content, but just so that you can get a sense of its message, it was the normal "How am I ever going to find my way without your guidance? ” and “Now that you’re gone, who am I going to look up to?”…you know, that sort of thing… Anyway, among his genuine worry, he typed a brilliant nugget of wisdom that I have carried with me throughout my journey. I’ll quote…”Remember, Matt, safety has no holidays…not even Chinese New Year.” Amen, brother…
The drizzle that had impeded my lens for most of the day had picked up to the point that the rain was coming down at a pretty good clip. I spent the ride gazing out the window spotting the flickering lights that began to give life to the skyline. I couldn’t help but recognize the irony of it all that the view coming down the mountain was purer than at the peak as the fog became more forgiving during the decent.
I began to sense an eerie feeling that something wasn’t quite right as we approached the bottom of the mountain. It became very apparent that the 1984 Toyota and its bald tires were not equipped to handle this sort of jaunt. I dismissed the premonition as I gained comfort that the taxi driver was occupied in a spirited whistling rendition of the song on the radio. His whistling skills were serviceable but I could have taken him in a competition with my eyes closed (in fact, and not to toot my own horn, so to speak, I’d confidently challenge Axl himself to a competition whistling the first bars of GNR’s classic, “Patience”…yeah, I’m that good).
I began to recognize my surroundings as we got closer to my neighborhood and my tension further lightened. Unfortunately for all involved, the driver took the last turn a little too aggressively on the slick path, the rear of the car fish-tailed away from us and as he fought to right the ship, we careened through a guardrail and into an unforgiving oak tree.
I was jarred, but unfazed. I immediately called out for the driver (his name was Leo). Although he did not answer at first, I could tell that he wasn’t hurt. As shock gave way to reality, he turned and confirmed the notion. With both of the important considerations accounted for, Leo and I got out of the taxi to survey the damage. It wasn’t pretty. We didn’t say much at first as we both tried to collect our thoughts. Having no other choice but to figure a way out of this mess, he got back behind the wheel, put the car in reverse and gently pushed the gas as I applied pressure to the hood to guide it out of the weeds. We were eventually successful in realigning the car on the road. Once on the road, I fended off his profuse apologies, denied his offer to carry me the final leg and paid the fare times two.
Although I recognized the area, I wasn’t completely sure of the best way to get home and so “I took a look down a westbound road, and right away I made my choice…”
On that note, let’s lighten the mood a bit.
Now, unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last two weeks, you are all well aware that Bob Seger has announced the first 8 stops on his 2011 North American tour. The world holds its collective breath as we all await an indication as to when The Silver Bullet Band will invade the Big Apple. Just in case you’ll be looking for me at that time...check the front of the line. Let me know who’s in and I’ll reserve a block of seats.
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