I forget where I was going. I even forget where I started from. But I needed a cab and I flagged one down.
The cabbie was middle-aged – about fifty, give or take. He seemed friendly enough as he put my luggage in his trunk and slammed the lid shut.
I settled into the back seat and, as is my habit, closed my eyes in an attempt to discourage conversation.
“Beautiful moon out tonight.”
“Umm…it’s overcast.”
“Sure, but it’s a full moon – you can see it through the clouds.”
“OK”
“You know there are some dummies who still think we landed on the moon?”
Knowing it was a mistake, even as I said it, “We did.”
“Are you nuts? No way we could do that in 1969. Look, there were no stars in the pictures. The flag waved. You can’t make a footprint on the moon.”
Okay, I’ll bite…I gave him the standard refutation of all of those points and patiently explained why he was wrong. It quickly became obvious that he didn’t have a clue what he was talking about – he was just regurgitating points he’d gleaned from some conspiracy website.
“Look…those are all pretty tired-out issues by now. Don’t you have something new?”
A sly grin crept onto his face. “Oh boy, do I!”
“There is no way they had the technology in 1969 to do a TV broadcast from the moon.”
“There isn’t? Errr…I mean wasn’t? Or is it isn’t?”
“They couldn’t possibly have transported an entire television studio to the moon. It’s just not gonna happen. And no way could they send a signal all the way from the moon.”
“Why not.”
“Because all they had was analog. That works on earth because it bends around.”
“What?”
“What are you – stupid? They could do it now with digital, but not with analog. I’ve studied Einstein and I’m kind of an expert on this.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure – how ‘bout 9/11? I’m a genius mechanical engineer.”
“No.”
“OK. How about banking? I’m a mortgage banker and an expert in international finance. Or the Bible – I’ve studied textual criticism for 20 years.”
“Do you have a cellphone I can borrow?”
“No.”
“OK. Then just let me out right here.”
“This is not a good neighborhood, mister. You might get hurt.”
“That’s fine. Just pull up to the curb and let me out. Anywhere will do.”
“You have a nice night now, mister.”
"Just shut up."
"What?"
"Just.shut.the.fuck.up."
