6 to 6: Arivaca
Debora Hunter, 389 W. Rillito Drive, is seven feet tall; her head eclipses the sun. She doubles over to get in my cab, her face a sad skull with…
6 to 6: Somebody Say the Magic Word
I get out of the cab and step into the oven of a normal Arizona summer day. I can’t find her, I can’t find her. My passenger is supposed to be at the…
6 to 6: And Deliver Us from the Vikings, Amen
A flashlight comes on in the dark. The light defines the motions of a man’s hand as he rises to his feet. The light lands here and there on empty…
6 to 6: This Shit Kicks Viagra’s Ass
My sunflower-yellow cab stopped in front of a small trailer on a gravel road. A big old man came slowly out into the sun, his body jerking and…
6 to 6: Thinking’s Got Nothing to Do with It
It was a cookie cutter neighborhood and nobody answered the phone, so I got out of my cab and walked to the door. I rang the bell. Dogs barked…
6 to 6: The Standard
It was mid-day and hot as usual in Tucson, the sun hanging there like an angry fundamentalist. Five sorority girls left their dorm building and…
6 to 6: The Road to the Casino Del Sol
Four Buddhists, dressed in orange robes, fold themselves into my cab outside the colossal brass doors of La Paloma, a lavish resort on the north side…
6 to 6: The Double
132 West Jacinto, Apartment 6 I pull my cab up to 132 West Jacinto and park. Rosalita Morales is 23 years old. She has big, lumpy formations on her…
6 to 6: November in July
It was 11am on July 3rd., the middle of the monsoon season. I was sweating in my taxi when I was dispatched to a nightclub named November. A poor…
6 to 6: The Jumping-Off Place
James was short and skinny, with a peninsula of purple eczema running along his right forearm. He had gray stubble on his chin and eyes which crossed…
