Meet February’s character:
Last Tuesday he was Paolo Giovanno, one half of Italy’s most up-and-coming figure-skating duo. Friday he was Mac Davis, mechanic and de-facto philosopher from Pittsburgh who owned the garage on 35th, out of which he ran semi-legal amateur boxing nights after hours. And twice this month he was Andrzej Wakowski, a former engineer from Poland who now worked waiting tables, hoping to send enough money back home to bring his family to Union City, New Jersey to join him. He didn’t quite know why hopping into a different life, an alternate timeline, every time he hopped into a cab felt more natural than staying in his own, but he was still a little amazed, even now, at the fact that if you hopped with enough conviction–if you jumped fully into a persona, without dipping toes to test its waters–people would hop right with you. Until the day the Diamond Cab, license plate EJ643, pulled up to the curb. “Where ya heading?” the cabbie asked, and he paused, stumbling at the edge of the street.
Take it away! Who is this mysterious rider? Tell us in a poem or a story!