“For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, For the want of a shoe the horse was lost, For the want of a horse the rider was lost, For the want of a rider the battle was lost, For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost….”
I thought about this quote later, but at 3:45 AM on a Tuesday morning it was all about getting to the airport on time. My wife suggested I book an Uber the night before to ensure it would be there when I was ready to leave. This was something I had never done before and as I exited the apartment with suitcase in tow, I was relieved to find the car waiting in front of the building. Perfect! The driver saw me approach, popped open the trunk, but did not get out to help. No problem, I thought, calculating a minor deduction to the tip. I heaved the luggageinto the back, came round to the passenger side, entered the car and dutifully pulled on the seat belt. “Good morning,” the driver said in a thick Russian-like accent. He was a large, portly man, balding, grey threads —the last of their kind— hanging off the sides of his head. “Good morning,” I replied, thinking his age and size prevented him from getting out of the car to help, and I can’t blame him. My resolve softened; the full tip reinstated. “Soo,” he says in a booming voice. “We going to Newark airport.” “What? No, we’re going to Kennedy.” “Noh, we going to Newark.” “I’m sorry, Kennedy.” “Nooh! You wrote Newark,” he insisted. “No I didn’t.” I insist back. “Yes, you did.” “I didn’t.” “You did!” that booming voice twice as loud. “Call my wife right now!” I shout, holding up my phone, sounding ridiculous and feeling like a child. “She saw me do it! She can tell you. I need to go to Kennedy!” “Nooh! I do not go to Kennedy! I take you to Newark, or Not!” I can’t believe this is happening. I look at my watch, 3:50 AM. How long will it take to get another Uber? Do I still have time? I can’t go to Newark. And aren’t Uber drivers supposed to take you wherever you need to go? “Well then, not!” I jump out of the car fearing he’ll pull away before I get my suitcase out of the trunk. As it is, he steps on the gas and squeals away the moment the trunk is closed. Standing in the street, I am reeling from what just happened. I whip out my phone and swipe to the Uber App. The icon appears on my screen just as a new car pulls up. The driver rolls down the window and starts with a question. “Todd?” “Huh? What?” “Todd?” “Yes.” “Kennedy?” “Yes. Yes!” The sound of rolling wheels, a man strolling with purpose, exiting the building. He looks at me, the Uber, and then all around for the car I now know was his and has just fled the scene. “Oh, uh,” I stammer, my heart sinking as I get into my Uber. “Are you, are going to Newark airport?” “I yamm.” Another foreign accent. “Uh, Uber?” “Yes.” “He, he just left.” “What? Oh my godt, I miss my flight. What I am to do?” “Don’t worry,” I try to reassure him. “Newark is pretty close and there are lots of cars.” He frantically digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Sorry,” I say. “Sorry.” And I truly am, but he does not hear. We speed away and I’m reminded of how fragile life is.For the want of a nail, a shoe, a question, the kingdom is lost, again and again. How capricious. How random….
“Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!” — Herman Melville
Todd David Gross is the author of the award-winning Loy series. A dystopian fantasy that explores the nature of man.
In a past life, Todd David Gross had an extensive background in music and was a veteran of such rock groups as The Burning Sensations, The Band Next Door, and The Shout! He performed primarily on bass, sometimes keys, sang, wrote songs, hauled equipment and performed in downtown NYC clubs, (usually after 2 a.m. on a work night), hauled equipment back, and sometimes saw the sun rise.
