In my cab, I will often be called to pick up someone from a medical facility. It happens frequently that when I arrive, the patient/passenger is not ready to leave. Inevitably, the receptionist will tell me, “You can have a seat, sir.”

This bothers me. Do I really need to stand there among all the empty chairs in the waiting room and be told to “have a seat?” As if, without being told to have a seat, I might just stand there forever, not quite knowing what to do? I might start spazzing out like a robot under a sprinkler? I might start speaking in tongues to the air conditioning vent? I might start punching myself in the face? Is she really giving me PERMISSION to sit down? Golly, thanks! Very kind of you. Is there a charge? Where’s the tip jar? You mean I can sit down just like that? What a country! How about a Bloody Mary, babe! And don’t put any of that rabbit food in it, either! How should I sit down? Do I bend my legs first or just kind of flop backwards?

But more than this, what bothers me is the idea the receptionist apparently has that I would really love to just sit down in the doctor’s office and wait for my passenger. So comfy! Do I don’t need insurance to plop down here and rest the poor old dogs? Boy howdy! I wish I could just stay here all day! Sitting in a doctor’s waiting room is so relaxing! My favorite pastime! Cathartic! Pastoral! Can I come here and hang out on my day off? I’ve got a vacation coming up, was thinking of the Yucatan peninsula, but maybe we could just come to Doctor Vihenssevea’s Proctal Care instead. Maybe I can breathe in real deep and catch every disease that’s floating around in here! What’s that smell? Loose urine? Carbolic acid? Wonderful! Somebody just sneezed a snot rope! Perfect! Ooooh, there’s a TV too! Wi-Fi? No way! Wow, just wow. Don’t you dare tell me you have cable! And magazines! Time! Diabetic Weekly! Somebody pinch me!

I always say, “It’s okay, I’ll wait outside.”

Inevitably, the receptionist looks at me like I’ve just put my finger in her coffee cup.

***

This is an excerpt from Mather Schneider’s new memoir, 6 to 6. You can purchase the book from Terror House Press here.