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[siluiusque-blog-blog]

Money can buy happiness

Last week, I had surgery at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. Upon release, my wife and I had to travel back to the hotel room where my wife stayed pending my release.As I maneuvered through the streets of Baltimore before I entered the hospital I ' I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of potholes that existed in the streets. I'm willing to bet that you can not find 10 feet of the street that is free of a pothole. I'm not talking about a bump in the road type - I mean the hole in the bone shaking that has the ability to cause the head to bounce on the roof of your vehicle except for a seatbelt . I doubt there is a car in Baltimore, without alignment problems caused by these frontal monsters of destruction. No need to speed limits in Baltimore, a person traveling 25 mph on their vehicle will soon sidelined for repair.Anyway after my operation, we had to travel some six miles back to the hotel by taxi. Having just had a number of points placed in my stomach, my number one priority was to prevent the jars that increase the pain I already knew. Upon entering the cab, I told the taxi driver our destination and loudly proclaimed, "no bumps." The taxi driver was an elderly black man who looked like Uncle Remus, I loved watching on television as a child when he told one of Aesop's fables. He took off his cap, scratched his white hair soft and repeated in a puzzled way, "no bumps? "OK, I'll try." He knew he had an impossible task, but I also noted that he had an expression of empathy when I'm out of my wheelchair and slowly, carefully and painfully entered his vehicle. Somehow, I knew he would do his best. We left the hospital grounds and he tried his best to avoid the holes in the jar that wound my heart and evoke the low moan of pain I could not prevent the seepage of the soul . He slowly and carefully shifted lanes, traveled through a little side street and actually tried his best. If he hit a pothole inevitable, I could see his face in the mirror that seemed to share my pain as he made a grimace. He managed to avoid dozens of potholes, but could not avoid them all. At one point he entered a side street, followed by an 18-wheeler that was obviously rushed. The "big rig" was barely three feet of the rear bumper of the taxi at the first of several explosions from the truck loudly proclaimed - "Get Outta My Way." The problem is that there was nowhere to go to allow trucks to pass. Undaunted the taxi driver continued at a slow pace with the 18 wheeler horn continues to blow his message unsympathetic. Finally, a small road, allowed the taxi driver to pull aside and let the truck continue on its way. The funniest - in less than three blocks from the truck pulled into a yard where it became a burden could be ready for pick-up.Anyway, we finally arrived at the hotel and the taxi driver got out to open the door my wife on one side and me on the other. He did not say a word to my wife, but I noticed an expression of empathy sincere apology on his face when he helped me out. "I'm sorry, but I did my best," he said. I could see the fare on the meter was $ 15 dollars, but I knew he had lost a lot of time and I told my wife to give him $ 35. My wife has asked him indispensable: "How," and he replied, "$ 15", whereupon my wife gave him $ 35. An expression of surprise materialized on his "face Remus" and he said surprisingly "too." My wife said, "oh no, thank you for your wonderful effort." He almost involuntarily accepted the payment, said thank you and entered his taxi to continue his work day. As we walked slowly into the hotel, my wife said she thought she saw a tear on his wife face.My commented on how he seemed reluctant to take the point and we both knew that both the driver Taxi unknown and remember this day. We remember her sincere empathy for two foreigners among the millions in the streets of Baltimore. It would probably remember the peak of its efforts to minimize my pain. We were happy to give him and were very pleased to have provided extra money that could bring a little joy in his life. For us, $ 20 was just an amount that would cause us a lot of thought. For him, it was obviously an amount that was used at the reception. My wife and I embraced each other tightly as we walked through the lobby of the hotel. We both knew that we had bought a little happiness for a very small amount.

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