Smuggled

"We are from Micronesia," one said.

I picked them up from the airport. Their accents didn't sound necessarily Micronesian, though I don't know what a Micronesian accent sounds like. They were friendly, plump, sweaty. They looked like they had just gotten off of a long flight. We talked -- I can't remember about what. And then I dropped them off at the hotel on Market at 8th street that used to be the Ramada, probably was the Ramada when this happened. They paid their fare from the airport and left.

A few minutes later I was taking someone to the Outer Sunset and the message came across the computer. Dispatchers are able to send their drivers text messages in cabs. Text messages are quite normal in everyday life. With most of the companies in San Francisco still operating with voice radios, the computer texting capabilities in Luxor and Yellow cabs seemed like a minor miracle. It read like this: "876. Last fare from airport to Ramada left small bottle in your car."

After dropping off in the Outer Sunset, I examined the lost article. It was a small hair-dye developer bottle filled with a white powder. The single question in my head, which is normally full of doubt and distrust, was: "Why did a Micronesian pack hair developer and then call every cab company, immediately, when they realized they lost it?" It must not have been developer. I opened it and smelled. Nothing. No smell. So, without thinking about it, I tasted. And it tasted like a base substance. "Is this speed?" I couldn't tell. So, I tasted again. "Yeah. Might be speed." And again. And again.

"Fuck. I have to get this thing back to these guys." As the revelation that the Micronesians were smuggling something illicit came to me, so did the elevated heart-rate and sweatiness of their contraband. "Fuck. I'm on speed." I sent Ethan a text: "I think I'm on speed. I didn't mean to. Fuck." I arrived at the Ramada -- quickly. I returned their developer bottle and left without incident.

I posed a number of questions to myself. "How did they get that bottle on the plane?" A more disgusting question, after I answered the first one was: "How big is the asshole of a Micronesian?"