It's 5:13 PM on a Wednesday. I got off the bus at 3:17, was inside by 3:23, in my room by 3:24, had my Dreamcast on at 3:25, and, save for a bathroom break at 4:43, have been grinding runs in Crazy Taxi ever since 3:25 PM. This, if completed, will be my 19th full run today, my 25th total counting the six runs I aborted mid-session. Before B.D. Joe has begun to sit up from his pose lounging across the front seats, before the announcer has started the countdown, before the first jump cut of the pre-run cinematic, I've already tapped the A button and shifted my taxi into reverse.
I lift my controller to my chest and whip it down to my right thigh, tapping the B button during the swing and slamming the right trigger down on contact to time a perfect Crazy Boost. My taxi rockets off the sidewalk in time with the Offspring vocalist. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! I speed past the first passengers. I skip orange and red emblems. Greens only. Yellows if desperate. I need the highest fares I can get. I slam hard on the left trigger to brake at the first cable car stop so I don't overshoot my first passenger or force her to jump out of the way and waste time running to get in. It's the pregnant woman in the green dress. She hops over my rear door into the back seat and tells me to take her to Popcorn Mania. I don't understand how a business that sells only popcorn can stay afloat. She must be having cravings. Day after day, your whole life's a wreck / The powers that be just breathe down your neck.
I slam down another Crazy Boost to launch off the flat and soar over the downward slope, hitting the ground with another to maintain speed. The whipping technique keeps my rhythm consistent: It goes lift, A-button, chest, B-button, thigh, right trigger, and it works every time. I barely fuck up Crazy Boosts anymore. I weave between drivers through the curve on the waterfront. My passenger stands up from the backseat and cheers. Cash register chimes pop from my TV speaker. I have the volume all the way up, but it's not loud enough to bother anybody if my door's shut. I kick up the ramp into the parking garage, slam down a Crazy Boost as I drift, dodge a sedan backing out of its spot, and launch out over the Pizza Hut to the street below. I break my speed slamming my taxi’s right side into a wall. There's probably a smoother way to do it but I've saved enough time that I can be rough. You get no respect, you get no relief / You gotta stand up and yell out your piece.
My best run today was the eleventh full run, thirteenth total, starting at 4:17 PM and finishing at 4:28 PM: nine passengers, $6,237.44 earned, 18th place, with a Class A license. My best ever finish was 12th, $7,057.04 earned, with a Class S License. It was 11:02pm on the Friday night of the third week of school, I wrote it down. I drift in front of the pink Popcorn Mania building and drop off my passenger. She high-fives B.D. Joe and runs off. 5 seconds are added to my timer. I try to reverse-Crazy Boost out but it doesn't work. My timing’s not right on the reverse-Crazy Boosts yet. I speed past the priest under a yellow icon to the man in shorts and a ballcap under a green one. Take me to the baseball stadium, he says. So back-off your rules and back off your jive / I'm sick of not living to stay alive.
The front door whines open and slams shut downstairs. My bedroom walls shake. It's 5:17 PM. Mom's home a minute earlier than normal for a Wednesday. The red audio input plug-in swings from the impact, unused in my TV. It’s technically supposed to be portable. My uncle gave it to me after the built-in antenna and battery door both broke when it fell off a table at a tailgate at a Twins game last fall. The tape deck sometimes ejects at random but it works enough for my purposes and no longer does for his. Mom would've never let me buy one with allowance money. She said having my own TV would just keep me cooped up in my room. I turn off-road at the curve to the church and boost uphill through the grass, launching up and over the helipad with another boost. My right index finger, both thumbs, and the fat of my right thigh all sting. The sun's going to break through my window and get in my eyes soon. I'll need to close my blinds once I finish this run. At this rate I'll get between two and three more runs in before dinner. I can hear mom and dad's voices downstairs. How many tries is it gonna take / Til someone around you hears what you say?
I drift around the hairpin in front of the train depot into the stadium parking lot. I avoid the impulse to jump off, which would land me in the middle of a row of parked buses and break my flow. I swerve through the cars in motion and cut through an aisle in the parking lot. The destination indicator flashes green in the distance. Their voices are getting louder. I pull up at the edge of the lot. My passenger high-fives B.D. Joe and jogs off to the ticket booth. I can't make out any words through the door but mom's voice is sharpening. Dad’s isn’t. 5 seconds are added to my timer. I've said it before, I'll say it again / If you could just listen, then it might make sense.
I pass a yellow and an orange icon to another green-icon passenger. I roll through the circle as I brake, he diverolls away from me and complains as he jogs up to my taxi. To the police station, he says. He’s in a black tuxedo. I Crazy Boost off onto the freeway. These roads are narrow: two lanes of traffic, no sidewalks to cheat onto on the right side and one-way oncoming traffic on the left. I can only pass through small gaps in traffic or down the middle line if I need to risk it. I sneak between two vans on the middle line. I brake to avoid bumping a hatchback, but I just nick its left tail light. It spins out. My passenger shakes his fist at B.D. Joe and tells him to be more careful. Leave me alone, not asking a lot, just don't wanna be controlled.
I zip left around the hatchback and cut in front of an ambulance. Two semis stand ahead. If I boost at the perfect moment, I'll be able to split them. After that I’ll be home free. It's all I want. I tap the stick left and position myself on the line. I lift back my controller, feel the memory card slot just tap my sternum as I tap the A-button, whip it forward, tap the B button on the swing, and slam down the right trigger as it punches into my thigh. My taxi speeds between the two trucks. It's all I want. Glass breaks downstairs. Mom's voice cuts through the walls carrying curse words and mine and dad's names. It's all I want. I clip the left semi. My taxi careens off to the left onto the opposite road. An ambulance t-bones my taxi. It's all I want. I tap the start button. The music stops. The house is silent.
I select "Retry." It's 5:19 PM on a Wednesday. If completed, this will be my 19th full run today.
Joe Bush teaches writing in Lawrence, Kansas. You can read his thoughts about soccer at www.scoresecondary.com and his thoughts on anything else at www.joebush.net.
