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Terminological Inexactitude by Mark R. Elsis

I was driving my taxi in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, when a man and a woman flagged me. As I approached the couple, I realized the man was Alexander Haig. Immediately, I felt bad energy, but kept a smiling poker face on. They both got in, and Alexander said, take us to McMullen’s. He quickly followed up in a sly and condensing tone when he asked me, do you know where that is? I smiled and said, yes, I know where Jim McMullen’s restaurant is.

During the ride, I felt a strange darkness emanating from him I had never felt before while driving any passenger. He knew that I sensed this through my smiling poker face. It was as if there was telepathy between us. Many times I almost gave him a piece of my mind but acted professionally. What I received back from him was akin to the Jack Nicholson character in A Few Good Men; from the scene, you can’t handle the truth.

None too soon, we were at McMullen’s. His wife got out and promptly started to look back into the taxi. I turned around and looked back as Alexander Haig was about to hand me three dollars for the fare. He put it close to my hand, looked me in the eye for two or three seconds, and then dropped the three-dollar bills on the rear floor.

His wife Patricia, who was looking at this power play, to my utter astonishment, said in a loud and reprimanding voice, Alexander, pick that up. I couldn’t believe that he did what he did to me, but even more so, I couldn’t believe that his wife not only caught him doing this but also verbally admonished him for doing so.

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