Best. Taxi. Ride. Ever.

I swear to God, this happened.

I was coming in late to work last Friday morning, as I had a meeting with a "financial manager" at my bank. I have one of these meetings per year, essentially because I have read that I should, and each year it goes pretty much the same way. I sit down, try to look businesslike and impressive, and then lapse into a banking-induced coma. I try to focus and concentrate, but what I hear is basically "blah blah blah blah blah credit line blah blah blah blah credit card blah blah blah blah blah blah RRSP." Then I leave, certain that I am going to face financial ruin.

After my ever-so-enlightening meeting, I began to walk to school, hopelessly trying to manage a coffee, my laptop bag, my ipod and my umbrella, all the while wedging a "Now" magazine between my upper arm and my ribcage. After my umbrella blew inside-out for the fourth time in sixty seconds, I hailed a taxi. (Note: Isn't it funny that I would hail an essentially unnecessary cab just minutes after worrying about my financial solvency? Aren't I clever? Anyway.)

I heaved myself and my various accoutrements into the cab and settled back against the seat, expecting a quiet ride. After all, it only takes about 10 minutes to drive from my bank to school. But it was not to be. Immediately the driver asked me my name, and told me his. Will Levine was in his early sixties, with a round, tortoise-like face and one of the biggest, sweetest smiles I have ever seen. He opened the conversation with a biggie:

"So, what's your story?"

"Can you be more specific?" I asked politely.

"Well, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a high school teacher. English and Drama."

"Drama, eh? You must meet all kinds, being interested in theatre."

I smiled. "Yep, all kinds. But you must really meet all kinds of people, driving a cab."

"Oh yeah, especially late at night. I'm also a magician, so I meet all kinds that way too."

Now, this was getting good. I love magic of all kids - little simple card tricks and big, showy, David Copperfield tricks. My brother can do some magic, and one of his tricks can literally keep me entranced for days. One in particular, involving a disappearing hanky, kept me entranced for YEARS until he finally showed me how to do it. And you know what? I'm still entranced by it, even though I know the secret. I was gearing up to ask him questions about performing magic when he dropped this little gem on me:

"Of course, I don't do 'stage magic.' I do real magic."

I took a moment to ponder the possibilities of this statement, and before I could respond, he continued:

"The real magic is how I meet the most interesting people. I can see stuff that regular humans can't. Last week I had aliens in this cab, right where you're sitting now."

Upon hearing this, gentle readers, I did what any self-respecting product of 21st century media would do - I scanned the cab for hidden "reality tv" cameras. (Note: This is the type of thing that keeps teachers up at night - some kind of permanent record of their idiocy and/or embarrassment that their students can record on their PVRs and then put on Youtube. I know I'm not a celebrity, but that's no guarantee that some Ashton Kutcher-type- slacker-actor-douche isn't going to try to screw with me at some point. Vigilance is ever my watchword.)

"Aliens, huh?" I said, testing the waters. "Did they look like people?"

"They did when they got in," he said earnestly. "But then one of them asked me if I'd ever seen an alien. I told him I hadn't, and then he asked me if I wanted to. I said yes and then he changed."

"What did he look like then?"

"Kind of like a bear, actually."

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah."

"Were they good tippers?"

"Not really."

I decided to try to converse with him on his level. "So, when you say 'real magic,'do you mean Wicca?" (Note: I actually went to Teachers' College with a Wiccan and went with her to a couple of events to see what it was all about. I wouldn't call myself religious per se, but as religions go, it's a pretty groovy, nonjudgmental one. I've got a lot of respect for the Wiccans.)

"Not really. Wiccans use their magic to manipulate things in the physical world. I use my magic to communicate with the astral plane. I speak to ghosts and demons." I'm going into business with a demon, actually. His name is Marchosias." (Seriously, follow the link. Apparently he's the "Marquis of Hell.")

To my chagrin, I saw that the taxi was pulling up to my school, but I just couldn't let that one lie.

"Business? What kind of business?"

"It's going to be called 'Ethereal Consultants.'" Will pulled the taxi over to the curb by the front door of the school. "If you have a problem you can't solve, we'll solve it for you with magic."

"Do you have business cards yet?" I asked hopefully, taking out my wallet for the fare. I mean really, how great would that business card look on my bulletin board?

"Not yet."

"Rats."

I paid him, thanked him for the ride and got out of the cab with a smile on my face.

There are two possible explanations for the epic arc of this cab ride: 1) I am going to be on Youtube any minute now or 2) Will is not quite playing with a full deck. But I don't really care. To have any kind of interesting conversation with a complete stranger is a rare, rare thing in this world. Life would be a lot more entertaining if we all just skipped the "What do you do/how are the renovations going/have you made your RRSP contributions?" kind of conversations and just blurted out our weird and wacky ideas. And I would certainly rather talk about demons than Paris Hilton or "Dancing with the Stars" any day.

Mr. Levine, I wish you the best with your business ventures - demon based or otherwise. Perhaps you'll become a kind of Mamet/Miller hybrid ..."Willy 'the Machine' Levine"... and become a huge mogul in the ethereal world. And if anyone reading this blog ever gets into Will's cab in the future, please see if you can score me a business card for my bulletin board.