Американские боги
Chapter 7
Theyarestoppedataredtrafficlight.Thelightturnsgreen,butthetaxidriverdoesnotmove,despitetheimmediatediscordantblareofhornsbehindthem.Hesitantly,SalimreachesthroughtheholeinthePlexiglasandhetouchesthedriverontheshoulder.Theman’sheadjerksup,withastart,andheputshisfootdownonthegas,lurchingthemacrosstheintersection.
"Fuckshitfuckfuck,"hesays,inEnglish.
"Youmustbeverytired,myfriend,"saysSalim.
"IhavebeendrivingthisAllah-forgottentaxiforthirtyhours,"saysthedriver."Itistoomuch.Beforethat,Isleepforfivehours,andIdrovefourteenhoursbeforethat.Weareshorthanded,beforeChristmas.""Ihopeyouhavemadealotofmoney,"saysSalim.
Thedriversighs."Notmuch.ThismorningIdroveamanfromFifty-firstStreettoNewarkairport.Whenwegotthere,heranoffintotheairport,andIcouldnotfindhimagain.Afifty-dollarfaregone,andIhadtopaythetollsonthewaybackmyself."
Salimnods."Ihadtospendtodaywaitingtoseeamanwhowillnotseeme.Mybrother-in-lawhatesme.IhavebeeninAmericaforaweek,andithasdonenothingbuteatmymoney.Isellnothing."
"Whatdoyousell?"
"Shit,"saysSalim."Worthlessgewgawsandbaublesandtouristtrinkets.Horrible,cheap,foolish,uglyshit.
