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December 28, 2004

Confessions of a bi-polar taxi driver

Blogborygmi had an entertaining post on Sunday that I want to pass on:

Taxi Cab Confessions: I was running late to an interview (meaning that, I wasn't certain I'd be 15 minutes early), so I decided to skip the subway in favor of a cab. I flagged one right outside my apartment and asked the driver to take me to a place we'll call Hospital X.

"Hospital X? I love that place. You work there?" he said, eyeing my suit.
"No, just interviewing," I replied. "So what's so great about Hospital X?" I figured I might get some first-hand insight into the operations of the emergency room, or an off-service department like ortho or surgery. The cabbie replied, "It's the best psychiatry unit in the city. I've been there many times. I love it when they take me there."

I try to take things in stride, really. And I try to be conscious of prejudice with mental illness. I read Shrinkette, dammit. But I can't deny my general state of alarm, as visions of "Taxi Driver" danced through my head. So I turned to my trusty smalltalk skills, and asked him why he didn't like the psychiatry at Hospital Y, often reputed to be the best.

"Last time I was there, they had me next to these murderers from Riker's Island. I don't need that. I'm not a criminal, I just get confused sometimes."

OK, I thought. And a nice epitaph, to boot. I'm calming down. But then:

"Aww, look at THIS! Traffic on the FDR at this time of day? Of all the @%#(&#(*$&# luck to *#%($#(*# me upside the #$%@#* in the *$&##$*%. It kills me when we're in traffic. I make #@%&*!* money. It KILLS me. I oughtta drop you off RIGHT HERE for getting me into this *(#%&(*#%."

At the conclusion of his tirade, I realized I had stopped breathing. I forced some air out to say "Ha," weakly, as I tried to smile.

"Just kidding, buddy. Don't worry, I'm on seroquel."

A finer endorsement, I cannot imagine. The traffic quickly cleared, and as we zoomed along the edge of Manhattan, I knew I could handle the upcoming interviews.

My guess is that Blogborygmi will be taking either the subway or a bus after this episode. I'm not sure that I'd want to be riding around in a taxi with a driver that suffered from bipolar mania or schizophrenia. But it could have been worse - a rare side effect of seroquel is NMS or neuroleptic malignant syndrome, characterized by muscle rigidity which could have made his taxi ride even more interesting. Possible final worst case description of his driver is a bipolar, schizophrenic, driver with rigid muscles having a high fever that drives him into convulsions. Taking a subway during a high-level terrorist threat might be safer.

Posted by Hyscience at December 28, 2004 1:58 PM

• Confessions of a bi-polar taxi driver - Dec 28, 2004