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My Kind of Town

by Don Chapman


The wrong thing

>> H-1, kokohead-bound

Even as she was sticking her left hand out the window and extending her middle finger to the driver behind her teal BMW, Lily Ah Sun knew it was the wrong thing to do. Not on moral grounds. On self-preservation grounds. She glanced in her rearview mirror. The taxi was still inches from her bumper, the big Samoan cabbie shaking his fist.

She'd first gotten him PO'd when she braked hard at Kalihi and King instead of speeding into the intersection, through which he intended to follow, and he nearly ran up her tail-pipe. Then, when she didn't burn rubber off the line the instant the light turned green, he leaned on the horn.

Admittedly in the past Lily had occasionally flipped off really rude or dangerous drivers. But she always kept her hand below window level so they couldn't see. Hey, it relieved a little stress -- there, take that, jerk-face!

But just enough stuff had happened in the past two days that this time Lily lost it and kept her middle digit unmistakably out there, a skinny flag flying in a stiff breeze.

That, apparently, sent the cabbie over the edge. Another case of Finger Rage.

Lily knew the Beamer could out-run his aging Chrysler New Yorker and leave him in her exhaust, but traffic was too heavy. There was no place to run. She hoped he was just being a jerk for a while, that he was on his way to pick up a rider somewhere and he'd leave her alone.

But when Lily took the Punchbowl exit, the taxi stayed on her tail.

>> Arizona Memorial

When he saw Muhammed Resurreccion approaching, Navy intelligence officer Lt. Martin Luther Washington turned and wandered inside the Visitor Center, appearing to be semi-confused about where he was supposed to go for the tour. Of course he'd been here before when he was stationed at Pearl. But Marty was playing tourist today.

He continued to look slightly baffled while in fact observing Muhammed posing for a photo in front of the Arizona's huge anchor with Rosalita Resurreccion, widow of his late cousin Jesus, and her 6-year-old daughter Elizabeth.

Marty's gal "Sandy," Muhammed's driver and known to him only as Wilhemina Orlando, took the photo with a disposable camera, then another, handed it back to Rosalita.

Marty appeared to be getting his bearings as Muhammed and his trio entered the Visitor Center. Giving a courteous nod, he motioned for the Filipino family with two women and a little girl to go ahead of him.

So, as planned, he was the first person in line behind Muhammed. Close enough to strangle the Muslim terrorist. Maybe later.




Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com



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